


The Gift

by Mirasaui



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Coming of Age, M/M, Male Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-07
Updated: 2003-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 102,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirasaui/pseuds/Mirasaui
Summary: Tutored by some of the most renowned elves of Middle-earth, a young elf with a tragic past doubts his self-worth. A coming of age, romantic story featuring: Lindir/Glorfindel, Haldir/Erestor and others.





	1. Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of rape (implied), murder, child abuse. Mild slash. Non-canon names are either my creation or from Samantha's list on the website, "Elves". Sindarin translations are from Orchyd Constyne's Sindarin Phrasebook.
> 
> Thanks to betas Lalaith Nienóri and Dinalphiel.

-A bedchamber at the Last Homely House, Imladris:

The elf rose from the chair to resume treading the path he had been wearing into the floor most of the night -- back and forth, back and forth, the knot in his stomach growing tighter as he tried unsuccessfully to quell his anxious thoughts. Long strands of moon-kissed white hair flowed down his back past his waist, the ends swaying in time with his restless steps. Slender fingers played worriedly with the fine linen nightshirt that graced his lithe body, which had yet to find repose under the cool sheets of the carved, wooden bed.

Back and forth, back and forth -- unaware of the cold stones under his bare feet or the frown upon his pale brow. Blue eyes tearing with frustration, he raised his hands to his face and pulled his hair from his forehead, grasping handfuls of the thick mass into his fists and pressing them close to the sides of his head. He paused to look at the hourglass in the corner, cursed softly then resumed his maddening pace. Why did a decision that came so easily to others cause him such anguish? Four days remained and he was no nearer a solution to his dilemma than he had been on day one. "Think, Lindir, think," he whispered to himself, but every thought that came to mind was quickly rejected. He needed ideas. He needed help. Reluctant as he was to ask for it, he would seek Lord Erestor out tomorrow and ask for his advice. With that decision, he finally crawled into bed to claim what sleep remained of the night.

The morning brought it all back again. A hot bath helped, but as he walked back down the hall toward his room, the nagging question began to torment once again. Entering the chamber and closing the door, he turned and rested his forehead on one of the smooth-grained mahogany panels. He felt so tired...

He crossed the room to his wardrobe and began a half-hearted search for something to wear. Pulling out a pair of light, grey leggings, a darker grey tunic and a pale blue blouse, he laid them on the bed, removed his robe and started to dress. The silk shirt felt cool on his skin and he paused for a moment to reflect on silky things: delicate woven fabrics, rich brocades, bolts of sheer, pale pastels and dark, heavy velvets. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had been down that road to no avail. Elbereth, what was he going to do?

Sighing, he stepped into his leggings, picked up the tunic and pulled it over his head, tying the laces at his shoulders. Worn-out leather boots completed the ensemble. At his dresser, he sat and looked into the mirror. A pair of tired blue eyes traced with dark circles stared back at him from the silvered glass. With another sigh, he picked up his comb and began to groom and braid his tangled hair, rooting in a box in a side drawer to find ribbons to bind the ends. What should have been a relaxing week off from border patrol, had since become an agonizing blend of days and nights of unrest and anxiety. All because of Elrohir and Elladan, Lord Elrond's twin sons. Not that Lindir held anything against the two elflings. He loved them with all his heart. But their latest scheme had recently turned Lindir's peaceful world upside down. It all started at dinner three nights ago.

-Three Days Prior - Dining Hall - The Last Homely House - Imladris

Lindir could not eat another bite. After a month of dining on lembas, dried fruits and berries, tonight's repast had been heavenly. Buttery, fresh salmon, steamed garden vegetables, an absolutely delicious cold soup, ah... His stomach was pleasantly full, and the alcohol from the tasty white wine that had been served with the meal had soothed his body and soul. Relaxed and in a somewhat sleepy state, he was content just to sit back and listen to the amusing exploits of the visitor from the Golden Woods -- Haldir, the Marchwarden of Lóthlorien. Haldir was an enigma. Sensuous full lips graced a fine-sculpted face with large hazel eyes. Expressive dark brows added to the mystery and charisma he exuded. His manners were impeccable and he moved with a refined grace that belied his broad shoulders and warrior's physique. If it were not for his Lórien uniform, one would think he was a visiting noble from another realm. He was a great conversationalist and a good listener. There was an air about him that drew people to him and held them spellbound.

Like all Lórien Elves, he had a special glow for Lothlórien was a magical place. But in Haldir the glow seemed to shine stronger and brighter. Only those who knew him well realized how close his bond was to the Golden Woods, for he had dedicated himself to their protection and would gladly give his life toward that end. Perhaps, that was why he was chosen at such a young age to be High Warden of the Lórien Guard. Such was his personality that his men felt for him as he felt for the woods. They would follow him anywhere, fiercely defending their home and their captain.

Upon first impression, Haldir could be cold, aloof and condescending. There were many that could not see past his habitual smirk. But those who chose to look behind the mask saw a gentle, honest, caring soul and those who called him friend were never sorry. But as much as Lindir admired and respected Haldir, there was for him another at the table who inspired even greater awe and reverence. He, also, was a renowned warrior, perhaps the greatest alive this day on Middle-earth. None would believe it at the moment, for a tear was caught on the tip of his golden lashes and another slowly rolled down his cheek. One of his tightly-muscled arms was braced across his abdomen, and his whole body was hunched over in his chair as if he were in dreadful pain. In fact, he was in pain, but not from injury. Haldir had just espoused a particular witty remark, and Glorfindel, the renowned Balrog Slayer, upon whom Lindir's thoughts had turned, could barely contain his mirth. He was trying so hard to control his laughter, that he was doubled over, struggling to catch his breath.

Lindir, who had been so lost in thought as to miss the punch line, simply sat and stared at the golden-haired elf with undisguised admiration. Luckily, no one else in the room looked his way or noticed, as the celebrated warrior remained the center of attention.

Once Glorfindel managed to bring himself under control, he immediately launched into an amusing story of his own. It being near the end of dinner and Glorfindel being in his cups, the tale soon revealed itself to be of bawdy nature and Elrond, the Lord of Imladris, was forced to put a stop to it, as it was not quite fit for mixed company.

Grinning sheepishly, Glorfindel winked at Haldir, causing the latter to throw back his head and laugh. The two made quite a pair, just being near them made Lindir feel euphoric.

Lindir, however, was not the only one who stared at the two in rapture. Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond's twin sons had their eyes glued to the pair, both mouths opened in a wide 'O'. They were enjoying every minute of the playful banter. Elladan pressed Haldir for one more story, and the silver-haired warden glanced at Elrond before replying. "One more," Elrond nodded, chuckling, "but make it a chaste one." Haldir thought for a moment, deciding on a particular story he thought the young elflings would enjoy.


	2. Haldir's Tale - The Vale Where the Bright Waters Meet

-A bedchamber at the Last Homely House, Imladris:

"We were a group of five on our second day out from Minas Tirith. The weather was stormy and we could not find a good place to make camp that night. After much discussion, we reluctantly decided to search for lodging at a small human settlement that we knew lay a few miles ahead. Two of us, myself included, had experience dealing with Men but three of our party did not and they were much against the plan. However, the force of the gale soon swept aside all concern and it was a wet and bedraggled group of elves that finally made their way to the village gates.

"The gatekeeper granted us entry but to our disappointment informed us that the Inn was full. He directed us to a house that was known to occasionally take in guests. The house was set apart from its neighbours and surrounded by a low stone fence. It was not a large structure but on this rainy night it looked quite inviting. There was a carefully tended garden out front and a cheerful light shining from the windows. Flowers lined the path to the front door. I walked up the path and knocked for entrance while my companions waited at the gate huddled under their cloaks.

"When the door opened, a pair of bright blue eyes looked up at me from a round, red, cheerful face. 'And what brings an elf to my door this time of night?' The proprietor said with a chuckle.

"I quickly explained our needs and the man welcomed me inside, waving my companions to come forward. We walked into a room that was dominated by a large hearth with a roaring fire. Seated at a table in front of the hearth was a woman, whom I took to be the proprietor's wife, three strong lads, and a small boy. The table was piled high with dishes of various foods and a delectable aroma wafted through the air.

"While we dried ourselves as best we could, the woman directed the older boys to find us a seat at the table and then hurried to set out more trenchers. As we served ourselves, our host poured each of us a large glass of a potent red wine.

"Introductions were made. Althos, our host, was a short man with white hair and beard dominated by a pair of twinkling blue eyes. His cheeks were rosy red and so were his lips.

His wife, Marda, was a slender woman with auburn hair just touched with grey. She had beautiful green eyes, that like her husband's, seemed to sparkle and her complexion was pale, almost as pale as my own. Dusted across her cheeks were the light brown spots that humans call freckles. She would have been a beautiful woman if it were not for a scar that ran from her left temple midway down her cheek. We never found out how she came to receive it.

"The three older lads had brown hair and blue eyes like their father. All were tanned from outdoor work, their bodies lean and muscular. The tallest bore his Father's name, Althos, but was called Alt. He was the eldest and as was the custom of humans would inherit the house and land when his father passed away. He looked quite capable and anyone with eyes could see his ardour for that which he called home.

"Cay, the next to oldest son, was of thicker build and we soon learned was apprenticed to the local blacksmith. It was he who had taken our horses to the barn and assured us of their good care. Of the four boys, he looked most like his father.

"Fadon was next in line and according to Marda had just turned fifteen. He was lean like his mother and spent most of the meal staring at our bows with a wistful expression, at least when he was not pestering Rúmil with questions about archery and life as a guardian. His dream was to be a soldier but his lot was that of a simple villager's son.

"The youngest boy, Theren, was the surprise. Dark, auburn curls graced a pale face lightly dusted with freckles. His cheeks were fat and rosy and his small white teeth were framed by pouty red lips. He had enormous emerald green eyes that seemed to contain inner layers of golden sparkles and when he smiled, his whole face lit up with an inner joy. My companions and I were astonished at such beauty in a human child.

"The company was cheery and the meal pleasurable. After we had eaten our fill and Marda had cleared the table, another round of wine was poured and we all sat back to relax and digest the meal in comfort. I had expected the youngest boy to be sent to bed, but Althos explained that tonight was a special occasion for his family. Every year on this date they celebrated their affection for each other. It was a custom only to their family and had been started by his great, great grandfather. Althos asked if we would mind staying at the table to share in this event. I and my companions agreed and our host happily served us another round of wine.

"Althos explained that each year they placed their names in a bowl. Each family member then closed his eyes and withdrew one name. They had the rest of the year to come up with a gift for the person whose name they chose. It was a bit more involved than that, he said, but we would find out for ourselves soon enough. Then without further ado, Althos broke into song:  
'"There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet  
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet..."'(1)

"The song was of Anórien, the land they loved so well, verdant and fertile vales nested between the crystal waters of the Mering stream and the Anduin river. Althos sang of the beauty of the land, of the pang he would feel if ever he had to leave home. And he sang of that which meant more to him than the land itself; his family, neighbors and friends, those who peopled the place so dear to his heart. For without the love of friend and family, the enchantment of the land would be lost and his life would be empty and forlorn.

"It was a beautiful song and the whole family joined with Althos in the singing. His deep baritone carried the melody while the tenor of his three older sons and the lilting high notes of Marda and Theren provided subtle harmony. We were delighted with the performance and it seemed to please our hosts immensely when we all joined in on the chorus.

"For the next hour, we were regaled with stories of their family and it was easy to see the regard they held for each other. We learned about Marda's love for flowers and growing things, Althos and Alt's love of the land, Cay's soft-hearted concern for the animals of the field and the creatures of the forest. Fadon, for all his preoccupation with soldiering, surprised us the most for he had taught himself to read and write and was much learned in the history of Middle-earth. Theren was too young to have developed much of an interest in anything other than that which young boys of any race find to amuse their days. But he was such a beautiful and happy child that he was not lacking in friends and according to his brothers was the darling of the village.

"Soon, we knew the grand moment of the evening was about to arrive, for Theren's eyes grew so large they almost seemed to pop from his head. He literally bounced in his seat as he asked his father over and over, 'Is it time Da, is it time?'

"Althos laughed at his youngest son and told him that yes, it was time, and he would have the honour of being the first to present his gift to the family. His curls bouncing with delight, the youngster ran to one of the cupboards along the wall and pulled from it a bundle of soft cloth. He brought it to the table and stood behind his chair, his young face suddenly very serious.

"'The name I drew,' Theren said as his green eyes sought those of Marda, 'is that of my dear mother. She is the one who soothes our hurts and dries our tears when we are sad. She feeds us, sews and mends our clothes, is our teacher, friend and companion.'

"He opened the cloth and displayed a lovely ceramic pot filled with a bunch of wild violets from the woods. The plant had been lovingly cared for and the perfume from the dark blue flowers was heady and strong."

'I made the pot myself and another one almost the same,' the youngster said as he beamed with pride. Reaching under the cloth again, he pulled out a small lidded jar.

'Inside you will find the sweetest honey this side of Anórien. It is worth the stings from the bees, for I have tasted it myself!'

"Marda accepted her gifts with a smile. 'Never have I seen such lovely flowers,' she said with a sigh. 'I will enjoy them for now. In time, I will separate the roots and plant them in the front garden. The violets will multiply and form a lovely border of rich green leaves. In the spring we will be blessed with beautiful scented lavender-blue blooms. Tomorrow, we will taste this fine honey, for I will bake scones that we can drench in its sweetness. Thank you, Theren, for such thoughtful gifts.

"Theren was beside himself when he saw how much his mother appreciated what he had given. He hoped that everyone would receive his heart's desire tonight and included a special wish for himself as there was something he had longed for the whole year. He had kept it a secret and hoped this night his wish would came true. This, he confided in my ear quite earnestly. Did he receive his wish, you wonder? Ah, that will come later in my story.

"It was now Marda's turn to state the name she had chosen. She stood and turned her eyes to her son Cay. 'I miss you each day when you leave at dawn, even though I know that I only have to walk down the road to find you. Your work with the smithy has seen you grow from a boy into a man and not just from the muscle and sinew you have gained, for you have also learned responsibility and trust. I hear nothing but praise for you from your employer and he has told Althos that as he has no son, he has chosen you as his successor when he can no longer work his fields. I am proud of you, my son.'

"'This year my gift to you comes with blessing from your father, for we have spoken with Mendan, and when she is old enough to be weaned, he has agreed that you shall have Anor's foal. We have all seen your wistful looks and it is time you had a horse of your own.'

"Cay did not know what to say. Anor was Mendan's best mare. She was a gorgeous animal whose sire was one of the famed horses of Rohan. He had been there the night Anor went into labor and he had helped bring her foal into the world. To be able to train Anor and call the foal his own was a dream he had never imagined could come true. He tried to thank his parents, but the words caught in his throat.

"'Be at ease, Cay,' said Marda, 'We know how much you wanted the foal and Mendan was only too happy to let you have her. He felt he owed you for rescuing his bull. It was a valuable animal and he would have been devastated at its loss. Take a sip of wine and tell us please whose name you drew.'

"Cay grinned. 'For the third year in a row I drew that of my elder brother. Alt, it is never easy to determine what you need. So, I decided to give you something you already have. Perhaps, you will think more of it as I made it myself.'

"Cay excused himself from the table and came back with a roll of soft leather that he handed to his brother. Inside was a set of matched knives. The handles were of ivory and the blades etched with a flowing pattern of lines and leaves. The craftsmanship was superb and as the knives were passed for us to view, I noticed a nod of appreciation from my companions. The young man did excellent work. We were not the only ones impressed, for Alt thanked Cay profusely and seemed deeply touched by the gift.

"'You have given me an heirloom, Cay, to pass down to my future sons. I will treasure the knives not only for their beauty but because they were created by your hand.'

"'Speaking of weapons...' Alt gave us a wink and stood resting his hands on the back of his chair. 'My gift is not as fine as those carried by our guests nor is it as large. In fact, the bow hanging on the wall over my bed is just about the right size for...' Alt paused and looked around the table, 'my baby brother!'

"With a whoop of joy, Theren was out of his chair and climbing onto the bed in his brother's room before Alt could say more. He emerged a few moments later, his mouth formed in a wide 'O'; a carved, wooden bow clutched in his tiny hand. 'May I try it out in the morning, Alt? Oh, please, Alt, will you teach me to shoot?'

"'Not so fast, Theren,' Alt said with a laugh. 'You cannot shoot a bow without arrows. If you look under my bed, you will find a quiver with twelve arrows that I made especially for you. Come to me tomorrow after you finish your tasks. You must promise to wait until then.'

"'I promise, Alt. Thank you, thank you, thank you!' Theren said, unable to contain his delight.

"Alt had given him that which he desired most of all! Racing from the room once again, he returned with a fine leather quiver filled with long, straight arrows. We learned later that his brother had to pry the bow from his hands before tucking him into bed.

"'I believe it is my turn now,' Fadon said, pushing his chair back from the table. 'It was Da's name I picked. I knew not what to give to the one who holds our family together, the one that I and my brothers look up to and admire so. You are our strength, Da, our rock, our root.'

"Fadon retrieved a rolled parchment from underneath the table, which he passed to his Da. It was tied with a bright red silk ribbon. Althos untied the bit of silk and unrolled the parchment. He let out a gasp of surprise then held the parchment up for all to see. It was a pen and ink drawing of the family seated around the dinner table. Fadon's talented fingers had wrought each person in the finest detail, down to the sparkle in young Theren's eyes.

'I have a frame for it, Da, 'Fadon said, 'I thought you could hang it over the mantle, so we can see it when we gather for our meal.'

"Althos cleared his throat to get his emotions under control. 'Your talent amazes me, Fadon,' he said gruffly. 'It grows with each drawing you make. Would that I could afford to send you to the city to study, for you are a fine artist. I thank you for my gift. There is nothing that could please me more than a picture of us all together. It is especially fitting on this night when we celebrate family.

"'You know that I hold the last name drawn. Fadon, as I said before, I cannot afford to send you to the city to study. But I was introduced to a young scholar when last I was in Minas Tirith and we became fast friends. I told him about your desires and he and I made a bargain. You are to reside in his home in Minas Tirith for a season. He will provide you with parchment and has obtained permission for you to copy some of the books from the great library. He will arrange for the parchment to be bound. These copies will be yours to keep and although he cannot allow you to sit in on his classes, he will teach you what he can in any time he has to spare. In return, you must draw a portrait of him and his family. If you do well, he will promote your work in hopes you may find a mentor. Marda and I cannot spare much but we have saved a few coins so you won't travel empty handed.'

"Fadon could not speak. Tears formed in his eyes and he tried hard to blink them away. His Da could not know how much this meant. To have access to hundreds of books at the library in Minas Tirith, to be able to talk with someone who had seen and studied the world. It was more than he ever hoped for. But to have books of his own, that was his most precious dream of all. Books were valuable, much too valuable for a simple villager's son.'

"'Oh, Da!' Fadon said, 'You have made me the happiest ever under Anor(2).'

"'I admit,' his father said, scratching his head, 'I was hard pressed to come up with a gift that would please you. It was pure luck that I became friends with Dinethain. He will be your guide and tutor. I have already written him a letter to seal the agreement. In two month's time you will be in Minas Tirith. I wish, son, I could do more.'

"Althos stood. 'In honour of this special night, we do not wish our guests to leave empty handed. I present to you a bottle of Anórien's finest wine. May you share it together in friendship and enjoy its fruits. We are happy to have your company on this stormy night. You are very gracious guests.'

"I accepted the wine on behalf of my comrades. 'Thank you, Althos. We are pleased to receive this gift from you and will be sure to think of you and your fine family when we taste of it. We travel light and do not have anything of value to give to you in return. If any of you chance by our Fair Woods, please tell the guardians you are a friend of Haldir o Lórien. That will grant you entrance and a reception with our lord and lady. They will welcome you with open arms as you have welcomed us on this night. It was our honour to be invited to partake in your celebration and we thank you for your kind hospitality. Now, we will leave you to your rest and will speak with you in the morning before we leave. No baid l n galen a glor (3).'

"With that we retired for the night. The next day, after a breakfast that included Marda's delicious scones and the honey that Theren had harvested, we said our good-byes and were back on the trail. But none of us ever forgot the family we met that night.

"About sixty years later, I and my brothers chanced to question a man who sought to enter the Golden Woods. He had the proud bearing of a warrior, one that had seen many battles but had entered the twilight of his life, for his face was aged and wrinkled, dark lines creased his brow and etched his features. His long auburn hair was flecked with grey. He did not flinch at my stare but in a proud voice asked to speak to Haldir, the Marchwarden of Lothlórien. 'I am a friend of his,' he said.

"'And what name am I to give to the Marchwarden when he asks of his friend?' I said, showing my amusement at the boastfulness of the man who stood before me. His features were not familiar and I felt sure I would have remembered making an acquaintance with a man of his striking looks. I could feel the puzzlement of Rúmil and Orophin as they too stared at the one who stated my name so boldly.

"The mortal gave no answer, simply stared at me with his gold flecked green eyes.

'There are twenty arrows in the trees pointed at your chest!' I said heatedly, 'Speak stranger or you will not live to see the setting of Anor.'

"To my surprise, the man bowed before us and spoke in a soft whisper. 'Rúmil, Orophin, Haldir, do you not remember Theren of Anórien? It was your invitation, Marchwarden, which has caused me to be here these many years since our meeting, a time that is long to me but to my thinking, just a short span in the lives of Elves.'

"And he was right, for it was then I remembered the head of dark, unruly curls, the vision of loveliness that we Firstborn had found so remarkable in a human child that stormy night.

I gave a whistle to the guardians in the telain above to let them know all was well and then grasped the man's arm in a warrior's grip. "I bid you welcome to the Golden Woods, Theren of Anórien. My apologies for not recognizing you immediately, although I must say, your appearance has undergone a startling change.

"At this he smiled.

"Come, I will introduce you to my Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, for I and my brothers have told them of your fine family and the hospitality you showed us. Tonight, I hope you will accept the same from my kin, as I offer to share with you our food and the use of our talan for the length of your stay.

"Theren did accept our offer and stayed with us for a while. We were sad to learn that he was the only one left of those with whom we had spent such a memorable night. Althos had died twenty-five years after our visit. Marda had followed him three years later. They had seen their sons grow into fine young men and were blessed to have been able to spend much time with the house full of grand children who had sprung from the seeds of their sons and their mates, children who still continue the annual celebration of family.

"Alt had inherited his father's property and had turned it into one of the finest inns outside of Minas Tirith. It was known for its friendly atmosphere, fine fare, and hospitality. It also served some of the finest wine in Anórien. Alt married a girl from the village who helped him run the inn and bore him three strong sons. His eldest runs the Inn now and has four children of his own.

"Cay took over from the smithy when he retired and was known far and wide for his quality iron and metal work. He never lost his love for horses and owned some of the fastest runners in the area, all descendants of the noble breeds of Rohan. He too married a local girl. His eldest son became the smithy when he died, while his three daughters married well and moved to the city.

"Fadon had done well in Minas Tirith and had indeed found a mentor. His search for knowledge had known no bounds and in time, he was offered a permanent position at the Great Library. His art graced the halls of the palace and so many requested his service in that craft, that his drawings became quite valuable. He never married, but there were many that spoke of the closeness he had to his friend Dinethain. Theren confirmed that they had been lovers, but it was their secret unto death. Theren told me that after his brother died, he discovered a portfolio of drawings that Fadon had done of himself and his friend. They were some of the most breathtaking works Theren had ever seen. He knew then how special the bond had been between his brother and Dinethain. Somehow, it eased the pain, knowing his brother had been happy, for Theren, although he loved all in his family dearly, had been closest to Fadon.

"Theren, through the influence of his brother, was able to join the guard at Minis Tirith. His skill as an archer and swordsman attributed to his rapid rise in rank, his current status equivalent to that of Haldir's as Marchwarden, although, Theren had retired some years past. He also had three strong sons, two followed in his footsteps. The third and youngest, and, according to Theren, the spiting image of himself as we remembered him, had surprisingly followed after Fadon and was a scholar at the Great Library. He was also a renowned artist in his own right.

"Rúmil, Orophin and I were glad to hear the history of the friends we had thought of so often. Our dealings with Men were rare and most not as pleasant as the time we spent with Althos and his family. I was the most fluent in Westron and through the grace of my Lord, was given time off from duty to show Theren the delights of the Golden Woods. In all my days, I have never met a man so gracious, kind and giving as was Theren during his short visit. We became fast friends -- a bittersweet experience, as we both knew this would most likely be the last we would ever meet.

"Theren made a lot of friends during his stay in our city. But all too soon it was time for him to leave. The drawing of names and the presenting of gifts still a tradition in the new generation of that loving family, which had made such an impression on us that night.

I never saw him again, and such time has passed that his bones must long lie under some grassy hill. But I will never forget him. And it is my hope that somewhere in another place, another time, Althos, Marda, Alt, Cay, Fadon, Theren, their past and future kin, meet again in celebration to profess their love for each other, to sing once again of the vale where the bright waters meet."

1\. From "The Meeting of the Waters", a traditional Irish tune. Lyrics by Thomas Moore.  
2\. Anor - sun  
3\. No baid l n galen a glor - May your ways be green and golden.


	3. A New Tradition

"That was a grand story, Haldir!" the twins exclaimed after Haldir had finished with his tale. "Theren had a loving family and many friends. Ada (1), may we not start our own tradition and exchange gifts?" Elrohir asked his father.

"Yes, Ada, we could draw names this very night." Elladan seconded his brother's idea. "We do not have as many in our family as Althos, but we could include all at the table, for they are close friends. We could all meet next year at the same time. Please, Ada? Let it be so. Please?"

Elrond laughed softly. "See, Haldir, what you have started! We will never have a moment's peace until I relent. Very well, Elrohir and Elladan, That was a beautiful story and it would please me to start such a tradition here at Imladris."

"There is no guarantee that I will be present each year," Haldir told the two elflings. Maybe you should limit this celebration to your family."

"But it was you, Haldir, that gave us the idea," Elladan pouted. "Please Ada, can you not tell Iaurnaneth (2) and Iauradar (3) that Haldir must be here each year. Can they not do without him for such a short time?"

Elrond winked at the Marchwarden. "I believe Celeborn can be persuaded to give up his Marchwarden for such an occasion." Elrond turned and spoke to his footman. "Would you fetch me a pen, parchment and ink?" When the servant had done as he requested, Elrond wrote down the names of all that were at the table, including his wife who was not present. He read them aloud:

"Elrond, Celebrían, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Haldir and Lindir.

"That is eight, a nice round number. Elrohir, tear this parchment into strips and fold each so the names do not show. Find a bowl, Elladan. We shall place the names inside so the drawing may be fair."

"I am not sure I should be included in the drawing," Lindir said. I am not a member of the immediate household. I am only here at the table because I am off duty this week."

"Nonsense," Glorfindel spoke up loudly. "You belong just as much as Erestor, Haldir and I. We are not of the immediate family but we are all family friends. That is what counts, is it not, Haldir? Was that not the point of your story?"

"Aye, I suppose it was," Haldir mused. "Perhaps, I shall draw your name pen- velui (4), I know just what you need!" Haldir grinned, batting his eye lashes playfully at the blue-eyed Vanya across the table. Glorfindel was about to make a similar retort, but held his tongue at a glare from Elrond.

"That is enough from you two!" Elrond spoke sharply. He turned to his two sons. "If you are through, pass the bowl so all may draw a name. Keep the name you choose a secret for we wish it to be a surprise when we meet again next year."

"Ada?" spoke up Elladan. "Must we wait a whole year before we give our presents? May we not make an exception this time? Haldir shall be leaving at the end of the week. Why not present our gifts on his last night? We could draw names later for next year.

Please, Ada?" Both twins turned pleading eyes to their Father and again, he gave in.

"Is that agreeable to you, my friends?" Elrond asked. I shall omit Celebrían's name as she is in Lothlórien and add her for the drawing next year. Remind me, Erestor, to ask the cook to prepare a special meal and we will open a cask of that Mirkwood wine you so favour." Elrond gave his advisor a wink.

Erestor arched an eyebrow at his Lord. "Was that not the same vintage that was served the night you..."

"Not another word, Erestor," Elrond gave a warning cough. "Glorfindel and Haldir are trouble enough for one night, do you not add to the mayhem." A chuckle from Glorfindel earned a glare from Elrond. "That goes double for you, seneschal."

"Oh, Elbereth, I remember that night only too well. Erestor was..." Glorfindel could not finish for he was laughing too hard.

"No, Glorfindel!" Elrond's face was flushed. Erestor, Haldir, and Lindir were trying their best to stem their laughter, all remembering the night that Lord Elrond had imbibed a bit too much of that particular vintage.

Elrohir and Elladan were staring at the Elda in confusion, wondering why their Adar (5) was so upset while the others could not contain their mirth. No one was planning on enlightening them. A tale such as that would have to wait until the twins were much older. Erestor, trying his best to bring his emotions under control, thought back to what, at the time, was one of the most embarrassing moments in his service to Lord Elrond. Yes, it had been quite a night!

It happened some years ago, when Lord Celeborn and a group of Lórien nobles arrived for a visit. As was custom, Elrond had thrown a reception in their honour. Celebrían was not present. She was in Lothlórien visiting her mother and in fact, had been there for some time. Ever since the birth of the twins, the passion between her and Elrond had waned. For the sake of decorum, they shared the same chamber but not the same bed. Her trips to the Golden Woods had become more frequent and of a longer duration each time. Elrond missed his gentle wife. His nights were lonely and he did not sleep well. If it were not for the fact that Lord Celeborn was his father-in-law, he would have found an excuse to be absent from the night's celebration.

But it was not to be. Dressed in robes of state, Imladris' Lord graciously greeted each guest as they entered the brilliantly-lit hall. Once the receiving line courtesies were ended, Elrond found himself cornered by Lord Celeborn, who began a long, boring recital of a strategic battle plan from the War of the Last Alliance. Try as he might, Elrond could not interject a word edgewise, nor find an opportunity to make an excuse to leave. When the Lórien lord did stop for a breath, it was to signal a servant to refill their glasses, forcing Elrond to match him in drink. Celeborn had no problem downing such a vast quantity of alcohol in such a short period of time, but soon Elrond passed his limit. The party dragged on, until most of the guests took their leave and retired to their rooms.

Others, however, including a slightly tipsy Lord Elrond and a more sedate Lord Celeborn, retired to the Hall of Fire, where a particularly lovely ballad was being sung by Lindir. Elrond, in his bid to get away from his father-in-law, took a seat next to Erestor, relieved to be free of the monologue on the battles of the Second Age.

Although feeling somewhat dizzy, Lord Elrond thought it too early to retire to his chambers. Lindir had a beautiful, soothing voice, and as he listened to it, Elrond's eyes began to close. He jumped as he felt a nudge to his side. He opened his eyes and in his somewhat drunken state, found something from which he could not tear himself away. He was suddenly very aware of the one sitting next to him on the bench.

Why had he never noticed the beauty of Erestor? When had his Chief Advisor become so enticing? Elrond stared in blurry fascination at Erestor. Silky black hair framed an exotically oval face with liquid brown eyes and long, dark lashes. Erestor's skin was golden in the light from the fire accentuating his high cheekbones and rosy, red lips. Luscious lips, lips that begged to be kissed.

"Mm..." Elrond leaned closer to Erestor and began to run his fingers through Erestor's hair which was unbound and careened halfway down the lovely Noldo's back. Elrond sighed with delight. Erestor, suddenly aware of his employer's intentions, sat stiff as a board.

Unfortunately, the effects of the alcohol in Elrond's system were such that he soon lost all trace of sensibility. Certain hormones in his body began to work overtime. To him, Erestor looked a tasty treat and he just could not resist. Imladris' Lord began to whisper words of endearment into the ear of his extremely sober advisor, much to Erestor's consternation and extreme embarrassment. At least Elrond thought he whispered.

The more his body reacted to the presence, in his alcohol soaked mind, of the luscious tidbit sitting beside him, the louder and more passionate his declarations of love became. Poor Erestor could do nothing without attracting attention their way. What was worse, Erestor's body began to react to the lewd suggestions pouring into his sensitive ear. When one of Elrond's hands moved to the buttons on Erestor's robe and the other slipped under the heavy garment to the waistband of his leggings, Erestor panicked. Elrond stopped speaking words of endearment and began to alternate between frantic pants and animal growls. The volume of his voice increased to such a level, that a horrified Lindir had to raise his own to drown out that of his lord's. Erestor knew he had to act, fast!

As nonchalantly as he could, he grasped Elrond's roving hands and tried to force him into a more respectable position. That was a major mistake, for the highly inebriated elf began to tell Erestor in no uncertain terms just how lovely he was and how desperately he wanted him. The more Erestor tried to quiet his over eager lover, the louder and more aggressive Elrond became. Lindir, aware of the struggle between the two, became so flustered he stopped singing. The resulting quiet brought Elrond's lustful cries to a larger portion of the audience, who was now aware of his actions and trying hard not to show it.

Erestor was brick red by the time Lords Glorfindel and Celeborn took pity on the two. With Erestor's help, they managed to escort the totally soused Lord of Imladris to his quarters. The walls of the Hall of Fire echoed with laughter the moment they exited the room.

It was a sober and chagrined Lord Elrond who apologized to Erestor, Lord Celeborn, and the rest of his guests the next morning. And of course, it was an incident he would never be allowed to forget! But, he would be damned if it was going to be dredged up at the dinner table in front of his innocent children! "Glorfindel!"

"Yes, my lord," the seneschal said, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

"Draw a name!" Elrond commanded.

Glorfindel reached into the bowl and made a production of picking out a piece of folded parchment. He unfolded the paper an inch before his eyes and looked at everyone at the table. "I drew my own name," he said with a grin. "Does that mean I have to give myself a present?"

Haldir groaned. "Pick another name, Orc breath, we are tired of waiting." Glorfindel swirled the folded tabs around in the bowl and finally made his second pick. Peering at it, he broke into a smile and to everyone's relief, stated he was happy with his choice.

"Your turn, Oh Valiant Lord of Imladris," Glorfindel said in a slurred voice, passing the bowl to Elrond. Elrond gave him an exasperated look then reached into the bowl to make his own selection. Satisfied that he had not chosen his own name, he passed the bowl to Haldir.

After all present had a chance to draw from the bowl, Lord Elrond declared dinner officially over and not too soon, judging the condition of Glorfindel and the Marchwarden. He would have a talk with his seneschal in the morning. "Not that it would do any good," he thought sadly. With that, he headed off to his chambers for a good night's rest.

Lindir had taken his time opening his folded parchment. He had not liked the idea of choosing names in the first place. Please let it be one of the children, he prayed. Elladan and Elrohir would be the easiest to choose a gift for. With bated breath he read the name that Elrond had written:

 ** _Glorfindel_**

Oh no, not Glorfindel! What was he going to do? Glorfindel was the one person at the table whose name Lindir truly had not wanted to choose. What did one give a legend? What did one give the person who meant more to him than anything? What could he ever hope to find that was perfect enough for such a flawless elf? Nothing that Lindir could think of would be good enough for the vision of beauty that was Glorfindel.

For Lindir had been in love with the warrior since the first day he saw him. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. What could the fabled Vanya, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of fair Gondolin and renowned ancient warrior see in an elf like Lindir? Glorfindel was a hero, the subject of myriad ballads and songs. He died fighting a Balrog during the fall of Gondolin, saving Tuor, Idril, their son Eärendil and many others. After his death he spent an eternity in The Halls of Mandos, but the Valar looked kindly upon the golden Elf who had sacrificed so much for his beloved people. In reward for his valiant deed, they granted him new life. He was re-embodied and allowed a second childhood in Valinor.

It was there he was befriended by the Maiar, specifically Olórin, and he became almost like them, gaining powers that no elf ever had. But unlike most that were reborn, he did not spend the rest of his days in the Blessed Realm, for the Valar returned the warrior to Middle-earth, where he was to distinguish himself once again. Lindir's secret love vanquished the witch king and fought at Gil-galad's side in The War of the Last Alliance. Those who saw him fight claimed he was one of the greatest warriors of all time. But Glorfindel claimed no honours, faulting himself for failing to prevent the death of the High Elven King. Bound by an oath to protect the line of Eärendil, he remained in service to Lord Elrond as seneschal, commander of all Imladris forces, Second-in-command of the realm.

Lindir sighed. To him, the elf was unapproachable. What could Glorfindel ever have in common with a lowly elf like Lindir, one minstrel in a house of many? Not only that, Glorfindel was Lindir's commanding officer. For Lindir also served part-time duty as a guardian of the border. And what was worse, was that Lord Glorfindel had not wanted Lindir under his command. Lindir had to beg Lord Elrond to be allowed to enter training.

Once Lindir had proven his ability with the sword, bow, and knife, Lord Glorfindel still had to be persuaded by Lord Elrond to accept Lindir into the ranks. The ancient warrior did not see a need for a guardian who would only serve part-time.

Part-time, there it was again. Lindir was also part-time assistant to Lord Erestor. Lord Elrond's chief advisor was more than capable of running the household without his help. Lord Elrond had created Lindir's position only because Lindir had too much free time.

Lindir sighed. He was indebted to Lord Elrond, for the kindly elf had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go. Lindir wished he could do more for his lord, but he had no other skills. Lord Elrond simply put Lindir where he would do the least harm. Everyone tolerated Lindir and helped him out of pity, just as Lord Glorfindel had tried to include Lindir in the group at the table tonight.

Lindir did not normally take his meals in the dining hall. As a guardian, he ate in the barracks. But Lindir did not feel right doing so if he was not on duty. The first time Erestor caught Lindir eating in the kitchen, he insisted that Lindir dine at Lord Elrond's table. So a precedent was set, and every time Lindir finished his month long patrol, he was forced to wear formal robes and sit at Elrond's table, pretending to be part of the noble circle that revolved around his lord. But he knew his true place.

He was an orphan, abandoned at an early age when his parents were killed. He had been found in the woods and taken to Imladris where Lord Elrond gave him haven. His true heritage (6) was not discovered until later, when Lord Gildor Inglorion visited Imladris and recognized Lindir's resemblance to his sister. No one believed Lindir could be his long lost nephew, until Gildor pointed out Lindir's odd-shaped birthmark, a mark of the kin of his house. Lord Gildor was saddened to learn of the fate of his sister and her husband, but welcomed Lindir with open arms.

But Lindir thought of Imladris as his home. He did not have the wanderlust that called to his parents and Lord Gildor, and he expressed his wish to stay in Imladris. Lord Gildor accepted his decision with grace, but wished Lindir to be publicly acclaimed as his nephew, to hold the title of Lord. Deciding he was not worthy of such an honoured position, Lindir refuted his claim to the title, greatly disappointing his Uncle. And so Lord Gildor left without Lindir, asking only that Lord Elrond teach him the history of his people.

Lindir was greatly relieved. He never mentioned his heritage again. Though through birth he had noble blood, he did not feel noble. He had not fought in the great wars like Lords Glorfindel, Elrond, and Erestor. Neither did he have the grace, the refinement, nor the beauty of the Eldar. He envied them and yearned to be like them. And now, Lindir had to find a gift for the one elf that mattered most to him in all of Middle-earth. And Lindir knew that no matter how hard he tried, Glorfindel would be disappointed.

Why did this have to happen? Why did Haldir have to tell that story? Why did he have to draw Glorfindel's name? And, so it began, the gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach, the growing anxiety and endless, sleepless nights.

1\. Ada - Dad  
2\. Iaurnaneth - Grandmother - (not attested)  
3\. Iauradar - Grandfather - (not attested)  
4\. pen-velui - lovely one  
5\. adar - Father  
6\. Lindir's heritage as mentioned in my story is not canon, for Tolkien reveals little about the elf. Instead, my Lindir is based on Soledad's lovely story, "Innocence", especially his relationship with Gildor Inglorion.


	4. Confidant

Lindir stood in front of Lord Erestor's office door trying to work up enough courage to knock. Should he tell Erestor of his troubles? What if Erestor laughed at him? Much worse, what if Erestor told Lord Glorfindel? But Lindir was all out of ideas, he had nowhere else to turn, nothing left to try.

Erestor looked up at the soft knock. "Come in," he called, hoping his visitor would not take too much of his time, for he had to deliver his report to Lord Elrond before noon. The door opened and Erestor smiled. It was his young assistant.

"Good morning, Lindir. How may I be of service?" Erestor looked at the shy elf. Lindir was as pale as a ghost with dark circles under his eyes. Once he reached Erestor's desk, he just stood there, nervously twisting his hands together. Erestor had never seen Lindir looking quite so miserable. "What is the matter, Lindir? Are you not feeling well?" Lindir had come to mean a lot to Erestor and he hated to see the young elf in this condition. "Sit, Lindir, tell me of your troubles."

Lindir sank gratefully into one of the chairs in front of Erestor's desk. "I-I am not sure where to start, my lord. I do have a problem, but I hesitate to speak of it. Would you promise to keep this just between us? I could not bear if anyone else found out."

"I promise, Lindir. Take your time and start from the beginning. Nothing you and I discuss shall leave this room, although I cannot imagine what has you so upset."

Lindir took a deep breath. "My lord, I have drawn Lord Glorfindel's name for the gift giving and I have no idea what he would want." Lindir's face, after blurting out these words, immediately turned a bright pink. He cast his eyes to the floor, afraid to look at Lord Erestor, believing he would die of embarrassment.

Lord Erestor tried not to smile at Lindir's discomfort. He knew the elf was shy, but to see Lindir in such obvious distress over a matter so trivial had Erestor somewhat amused. Was Lindir that frightened of his commander? Erestor knew Glorfindel could be intimidating, but Lindir was not a new recruit. He was part of Lord Elrond's household, had been so for years. He wondered if something had happened between Glorfindel and Lindir.

"Lindir, I believe Lord Glorfindel would be pleased with any gift that you choose. What about a clip for his hair or a book? Glorfindel loves to read. Or perhaps, you could ask Marchwarden Haldir for ideas? They are good friends and have much the same interest. I am sure Haldir could give you many more suggestions than I. Lord Glorfindel and I, as I am sure you have noticed, do not always see eye to eye."

"But you and Lord Glorfindel are friends. I know that, my lord. I would not feel comfortable speaking to Haldir. I do not know him well and I am afraid he would believe me foolish," Lindir mumbled, finding it almost as hard to think about approaching the handsome marchwarden, as it would be to speak to Lord Glorfindel himself. "I would have liked to come up with an idea on my own, but nothing I think of seems good enough. Lord Glorfindel is, well, he is just...." Lindir could not form the words, and he raised his blue eyes pleadingly to his friend and employer.

Erestor was beginning to believe that his assistant was a bit infatuated with the blond lord. "Are you not trying a little too hard to impress your superior officer? Truly, Lindir, Glorfindel is not that different from you and me. His tastes are somewhat frivolous in my opinion, but then again, we are opposites. Remember, it is the thought that counts when one gives a gift. Lord Glorfindel shall be pleased with whatever you choose as it comes from you. He does think highly of you, Lindir, he speaks of you often."

"How I wish that were true," Lindir thought, but he knew that Lord Erestor was only trying to make him feel better. "It is so difficult to choose, my lord." Lindir finally said in answer to Erestor's question. "A hair clip was the first gift that came to mind. But when I went to look at what was offered, I could not picture Lord Glorfindel wearing any of the ones that I saw. Besides, mostly he ties his braids with bits of ribbon or leather. As to books, Glorfindel has the run of the library. What book could I possibly select that he may not already have read? I thought of a new tunic, but clothes are expensive and I did not wish too personal a gift. How much should I invest on Glorfindel's present? I so want it to be special. A bottle of wine or sweets, those are too ordinary. Please, my lord, can you offer your suggestions? ideas? Four days reamin and I am desperate."

Erestor leaned back in his chair and looked about his office as if seeing it for the first time. Floor to ceiling bookcases lined the interior wall, each bound manuscript on the shelves indexed and ordered to the advisor's exacting standards. A large desk of exotic dark wood took up most of the floor space, its surface littered with multiple stacks of documents awaiting Erestor's perusal. For Erestor was never idle. In fact, no one at Imladris could ever remember Erestor's desk looking any other way, except for the one time Lord Glorfindel thought to help with his filing. Erestor had been ill that month and not surprisingly, Lord Glorfindel was ill the next, although from a quite different malady.

The room would have been a very depressing place if it were not for the large triple window cut into the outer wall. At the moment, the thin silk inner curtains were drawn to keep out the glare of the morning sun, but once Anor rose higher in the sky, Erestor would pull them aside. Not a day went by that Erestor did not take a moment to enjoy the lovely view of the waterfalls of Imladris. Dropping from great height, the frothing white waters spit out breaths of mist that refracted the sun's warm rays into a spectrum of colour, the ever present rainbows one of the great wonders of the Elven realm. Only Lord Elrond's suites had a better view.

For centuries, Erestor had this glory all to himself until Lord Elrond decided Erestor was overworked and introduced Lindir as his new assistant. Lindir and Erestor did not get off to a magnanimous start. Erestor was set in his ways and resented the time he had to spend training the young elf. Lindir, on the other hand, was too eager to please. His constant litany of "What may I do to help, my lord?" had driven Erestor almost to the point of insanity. After a fortnight, Erestor could take it no longer. He had gone to Lord Elrond with plans to ask that Lindir be assigned elsewhere.

"Why, Elrond? Why grant me an assistant after all these centuries?" Erestor had asked. "Are you suddenly displeased with my work? Do you believe me too slow?" Erestor hated to think he had somehow let down his lord.

Elrond had hemmed and hawed and paced a bit before finally telling Erestor the truth. "I value your service every day, Erestor. Never could I have managed all these years without you. Yet, I am at my wits end over what to do about Lindir. He has such a gift. I expected him to eagerly accept membership in the Harper's Guild, but he has finally convinced me that shall never happen. I am afraid Lord Findal has coloured his decision. Lindir puts up with the elf, barely. I realize Findal can be a tyrant but his bark is worse than his bite and there is no other who can give Lindir the advanced instruction he needs. To be truthful, I cannot see Lindir thriving in Findal's house. And of course, were he to join the guild, he would have to make his home there. I cannot make an exception to that rule. It would be unfair to the other minstrels. Yet, neither can I let Lindir wander the halls in idleness.

"Lindir is shy but highly intelligent. You were his tutor and you both have a tremendous love for books. My thought was he could help you with your research and seriously, Erestor, would it be so wrong to have more time for yourself?

"I realize you do not require an assistant, but where else can I put the child? He needs to be around someone who can give him the love and attention he secretly craves. I know your heart, Erestor. You will come to love Lindir as I do and he will thrive under your influence. I am not asking you to give him any special consideration, but he desperately needs a friend and I truly believe that you are the one who can penetrate his defences. If you wish I will find another place for him, but I will be hard pressed to do so."

"He is not a child, Elrond," Erestor had taken it upon himself to correct his lord, "and it is not that I dislike Lindir, it is just I have my own ways and procedures. Lindir tries to help but he knows so little about my methods. In the time it takes me to teach him, I could do the task three times over. And Lindir's hovering is irritating, it unnerves me and I end up hurting his feelings. Then I feel miserable, and..."

"Do not fret, Erestor, I understand. I will meet with Lindir tomorrow and find him a place with someone else." Elrond's shoulders dropped a few inches as he turned away from his advisor. He had not expected his plan to work, but he did not believe Erestor would come to him this quickly. "Maybe I should send Lindir to Lothlórien. Galadriel could use an assistant and would not treat the young Elf unkindly." Not realizing he had voiced his thoughts, Elrond was therefore surprised at his advisor's outburst.

"Send him away from the only home he has ever known? Lindir loves Imladris. Elrond, he will not understand. He will not understand at all."

And so, Erestor had agreed to give Lindir another try. And now, looking back, Erestor realized how much he had come to depend on the youngster. Perhaps, he and Lindir had not become as close as Lord Elrond had predicted. Erestor cared for Lindir, but the elf was so reserved, he was not easy to reach. They were friends on the surface, but Erestor did not know of anyone to whom Lindir totally unburdened. He was close to Tebring, but they did not interact when Lindir was off duty. In fact, now that Erestor thought about it, this was the first time that Lindir had approached him with any sort of personal problem. And here he was lost in thought, not listening to a word the young elf was saying. Erestor forced himself back to the present.

"What would you give, my lord, if you had drawn Glorfindel's name?" Lindir asked. "The men in Haldir's story put such thought behind their gifts. But they were family and knew each other's wants. As to what Lord Glorfindel does in his free time, what his interests are, his likes and dislikes, I am not privy. What if I select a gift that Glorfindel despises? You know him so much better than I, Erestor."

"Give me time to think on this," Erestor told Lindir with a smile. "I will try to come up with a list. But Lindir, unless you look at this realistically, you are not going to agree with anything I suggest. I still feel you should speak with Haldir. I am sure he has received gifts from the guardians that are under him in rank. He should be able to help you think of an appropriate present. Just do not act like it is the end of the world when you speak with him. Haldir will be more than willing to help, trust me."

Lindir was not too sure about that, but he had not come any closer to solving his problem by speaking with Erestor. Maybe Haldir would be worth a try.

"My thanks to you, Erestor," Lindir said. "I believe I shall speak to Haldir. You would not by chance have an idea where he is?"

"Haldir was in Celebrían's garden earlier, reading. Speak to him, Lindir. If Haldir can not help, return here and we shall put our heads together. Try not to worry so. Glorfindel shall be pleased with whatever gift you choose." Erestor chuckled. "Take a deep breath Lindir. The sun will still come up tomorrow. Now off with you, for I must finish my report."


	5. Little Bird

The elf of whom Lindir and Erestor had just been speaking was sitting on a bench in Celebrían's garden reading a thick book. It was pleasant basking in the warm sunlight breathing in the heady scent of the spring blossoms. In fact, it felt so good, Haldir was thinking about stretching out and taking a nap. He picked up the piece of ribbon he was using for a bookmark and placed it behind the last page he had read. Haldir was just beginning to lie down when he sensed he was not alone. Turning, he saw Lindir standing behind him. The young guardian looked upset. Haldir frowned; hoping the Elf did not bring bad tidings. "Is something amiss, Lindir? You look troubled."

"I am a bit tired, Haldir, but otherwise fine." Lindir brushed a small insect away from his face. "I was wondering if we may talk. It is a beautiful day and we are both free of duty. I just thought you might like company. I mean, I know you do not visit Imladris that often and I thought you might be lonely. I do not mean that in a bad way. What I meant to say is that I realize that you do not have many friends here and I do not have anything to do at the moment, so I thought you might like, um, you might like to...."

"Elbereth!" Lindir thought. He could not even talk straight around the marchwarden. He had just insulted Haldir by implying that the Lórien elf did not have any friends. That was not what he meant at all. He wracked his brain trying to think of something to say that would smooth the situation over, but his mind had apparently shut down. Haldir was looking at him with that irritating smirk on his face and it just made Lindir feel more intimidated. He should have known this was a bad idea. But he could not just walk away; Haldir would believe there was something wrong with him. Lindir was saved from any more distress when Haldir spoke.

"Sit down, Lindir," Haldir said, patting at the empty spot on the bench beside him. "It is pleasant here and you are right, I would appreciate company. If I remember correctly, you have the rest of this week off. Tell me, what do you usually do in your free time?"

Haldir took a closer look at the youngster. He knew somewhat of Lindir's history from Lord Glorfindel and Lady Galadriel, but had never had much interaction with the guardian. Now that Lindir had made an effort to approach him, Haldir saw him in a new light. Lindir was young, but highly attractive and he definitely seemed as if he could use cheering up. Haldir did not have any specific plans for today and the thought of spending time with a lovely elf such as Lindir suddenly seemed very appealing. He looked up with a gleam in his eye.

"You have said this is one of your favourite places and it is quite fair. But from the sparkles in those blue eyes of yours when you speak of Imladris, it seems there are many treasures in this fair realm I have not yet tasted. You have lived here all your life, Lindir. Would you be willing to show me some of what I have been missing?"

Lindir became even more flustered. "Was Haldir hinting at something? '...Treasures that I have not yet tasted?' Was that an implication of something more than friendly companionship?" Lindir felt a lump begin to form in his throat. The minstrel knew that Haldir had somewhat of a reputation in Lórien. There was talk among the Imladris guardians that the Marchwarden's bed was rarely empty, but surely Haldir had some other meaning behind his words. He certainly would not be interested in Lindir, not in that way! Glorfindel had been in his thoughts so much lately, that he was putting too much meaning behind the words others said.

"Lindir...?" Haldir spoke softly. "Are you sure you are well?" Lindir did not appear to have heard a word that he said. The elf had a strange look on his face and his eyes were completely vacant, almost as if he were in reverie. "Lindir...?"

Lindir jumped and looked down at the Marchwarden. "Sorry, Haldir, I was thinking about what you said and I guess I started daydreaming. What do I do in my free time? Well, I ...?" Lindir could not think of a reply. What was it Haldir had asked him? He could not remember. The restless nights and lack of sleep were finally catching up with him. He was so tired he could not think.

"I am sorry, Haldir, I forgot your question," Lindir said with a sigh, wishing he were anywhere else but where he was. "I have not been sleeping well, and I think it has all just caught up with me. Perhaps it would be best if I retired to my room and took a nap." Lindir gave Haldir what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

But the marchwarden was not buying his excuse. Haldir had too much experience to be fooled by Lindir's words. "I think you have a problem, pen dithen (1), and it is something that has been bothering you for quite awhile. Perhaps it would help if you talk about it? I am a good listener for I have two brothers at home who come to me all the time for advice. Want to give me a try?

"Better yet, why do I not go to the kitchen and find us something to eat. We can sit by the falls and have lunch while we talk. It will do us both good to be outdoors in such a lovely setting on such a fine day. In fact, I will not take no for an answer. Wait here; it will not take but a moment to gather what I need.

Wondering what he had involved him self in this time; Lindir took a seat on the bench and watched as Haldir hurried off in the direction of the kitchen. Why was life so complicated? All Lindir had wanted was a simple conversation with the Lórien Elf, but as usual, he had made a total fool of himself before Haldir was ever aware of what bothered him. And from the way Haldir was reacting, one would think Lindir had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Well, if Haldir was as good as he implied, Lindir thought, maybe my worries will soon be over.

True to his word, Haldir appeared shortly with all the makings for a picnic. Apparently, he had used his charms on the kitchen staff, for Lindir could smell the delicious aroma of fresh baked bread and some type of sweet dessert. Peeking out from the corner of the basket were the necks of two bottles of wine. Two...? Could they really drink that much in one sitting? Maybe Haldir did have something else on his mind besides listening to Lindir's troubles? Lindir sincerely hoped he was mistaken. He liked the Lórien warrior but not in that way. Those feelings he reserved for another.

It did not take long to reach the falls and Lindir realized that Haldir could not have picked a more pleasing spot. The sky was a brilliant blue overhead and the fine mist from the falling water felt wonderfully cool on his sun-warmed skin. He idly watched his newfound companion as he spread the picnic blanket on the ground. Haldir was not as slim as his golden idol, but the fine play of muscles under the tightly stretched fabric of Haldir's tunic reminded him of his love. So did the long, silky tresses that brushed gently against the elf's back to fall past his waist, although Haldir's locks were silver to Glorfindel's gold. Erestor was right. The two were alike in many ways.

Lindir's eyes turned inward as he thought about the object of his desire. Glorfindel was fair as the finest porcelain. Tall, straight- shouldered, he walked like a king of old with head held high. His was a commanding presence but unlike Haldir, Glorfindel's normal expression was one of warmth, light, and strange as it may seem, innocence. For at first glance, his sky-blue eyes seemed guileless like those of a child. But hidden beneath the seeming wide-eyed innocence was a mind sharp as a whip. For Glorfindel had lived a long time in this world. Two lifetimes, in fact, and he had seen and learned much.

Lindir was so lost in thought that he missed the look that crossed Haldir's face. In fact, he had totally forgotten about the marchwarden until he felt a hand gently grasp his shoulder. Warm hazel eyes peered into his own blue as Haldir moved closer. "Where have you been, pen velui? (2) In what dream have you lost yourself?" Haldir's fingers brushed a stray lock of white hair from Lindir's cheek. "Come, my little bird, let us sit and eat. I do not want this good food to go to waste, and you need something in your stomach to hold you to the ground." Haldir laughed softly, then reached for Lindir's hand and led him to the blanket, motioning for him to sit.

With practiced efficiency Haldir invaded the basket and soon a delectable assortment of fresh sliced fruit, soft cheese, warm bread, and crusty pastry was artfully arranged on a large platter. He set the plate down and again reached into the basket to remove two glasses into which he poured a clear white wine. Handing one of the glasses to Lindir and one to himself, he took a deep breath and began to sing. The song was an old one that spoke of delightful summer days, clear sparkling water and laughing elves. Haldir had a deep pleasing voice and Lindir could not help but add his own sweet notes in accompaniment. They had finished the fourth verse when Lindir noticed that Haldir had quit singing. "Why did you stop?" Lindir asked.

"Would you pair a crow with a nightingale?" Haldir replied. "You have a beautiful voice, Lindir. It puts mine to shame. Would that I could bottle the sound to have it with me always." Lindir blushed at the compliment. "There is nothing wrong with your voice," Haldir," the minstrel said shyly. "I enjoyed singing with you."

"Well, it served my purpose anyway." Haldir said as he picked up a piece of fruit. "You are in a much better mood! You have a lovely smile as well as a pretty voice. But if you do not eat, I will think you do not enjoy my company." He lifted the fruit to Lindir's lips and watched as the white-haired elf took a dainty bite. Haldir noted the flushed cheeks and the silver glitter in Lindir's blue eyes. He loved the feel of Lindir's lips as they touched his fingers ever so lightly. Lindir had a delicate beauty. His pale hair framed flawless white skin that was tinted a slight pink on his cheeks and lips. He was tall and willowy, with the grace and lithe moves of a dancer, yet there was an aura of innocence about him that made Haldir wish to embrace and protect him. But it was a false image, for underlying this frailty were the muscle and sinew of a warrior. Lindir might only be a part-time guardian but he kept himself in shape with daily exercise. And it showed. "Such an enticing being," Haldir thought, then sighed. It was obvious that Lindir did not have the slightest interest in the marchwarden.

Haldir knew this one was not the type to play around. Lindir was waiting for someone to claim his heart. He was saving himself for the one that wanted him forever. Haldir knew that whoever it was, they would be very lucky. For Lindir was indeed special. Gentle, honest, with a large capacity for giving. He was one who would give his all to his lover and expect nothing in return. Haldir wondered who held his eye, for it was obvious that Lindir was in love, just not obvious who with.

But in addition to his heart, Haldir sensed there was something else that was truly bothering his lovely friend. Lindir reminded Haldir of a little bird who would tuck his head under his wing to hide from the world. Haldir wanted to be the one who would comfort the bird and let him soar free. But first, he had to figure out what it was that had Lindir so upset. He had to get him relaxed enough to talk. And as shy as Lindir was, it was not going to be easy.

"What troubles you, little bird?" Haldir wondered once again, as he and Lindir had finished their meal and were leaning back looking up at the sky. He had tried to draw Lindir out while they were eating, but the poor elf seemed to resist every attempt Haldir made. Lindir had stuttered and mumbled throughout the whole conversation. It was obvious Lindir was frightened of him and he idly wondered why. He had tried to be as gentle as possible with the minstrel, but it only seemed to increase his fear. Haldir finally decided that honesty was the only thing left to try.

"Lindir, can I ask you a personal question?" Haldir asked softly.

Lindir looked at him with a worried expression. "What is it that you wish to know?" he whispered.

Haldir reached out and covered Lindir's hands with his own. He could feel the trembles that Lindir was desperately trying to control. "Do I frighten you?" Haldir inquired."

"N-no, y-yes." Lindir managed to reply. "I-I mean, I am not scared of you but I am not sure what you want of me. I am afraid you want more than I am willing to give."

"I would love to have you, pen velui, for though you might not think so, you are beautiful. But I do not think that I could give you my heart, and that is what you would require. No more, no less. And if I am not mistaken, I believe someone has already laid claim to yours. Who claims your heart, Lindir? Can you tell me, for I sense that I never had a chance?"

Lindir's eyes had grown wide with surprise, and his trembling had increased to the point that he was visibly shaking. But before he had a chance to answer Haldir's heartfelt question, a shadow fell across the blanket and both elves looked up into a pair of laughing blue eyes.

"So, what am I interrupting, marchwarden, minstrel? Do we have a little love nest here in the grass? Or are you just enjoying the attributes of this fine day as I am?" Glorfindel laughed as he gazed down at the faces of the two surprised elves below him.

Haldir was the first to recover. "Nay, golden one, we were just partaking of a little friendship and food. You are welcome to join us if you like. We have eaten our fill and have a bit left over. It will not fill your belly but we do have enough wine for three to share. I am sure my companion will not mind another presence at our outdoor table."

Haldir glanced over at Lindir expecting to see him smile in acquiescence, and was shocked to see that Lindir had turned an amazing shade of red and was gazing at the blanket as if he wished it to be over his head. Glorfindel, thankfully, was completely oblivious of Lindir's state, and was looking at Haldir with an amused grin on his face, delighted at having the chance to tease his friend.

Haldir quickly put two and two together and realized that he already had the answer to the question he had asked Lindir. So, Lindir loved his golden-haired friend. It was obvious from the look on Lindir's face. And, Haldir grinned to himself, also obvious that Lindir had not been bold enough to let Glorfindel in on his feelings. Hmm, this was quite interesting. Glorfindel, to his knowledge had no current lover, in fact had not for a long time. Haldir just might have to take on the roll of matchmaker. For if he left these two to their own devices, Haldir knew, absolutely nothing would happen! For now, he would not let this golden opportunity pass and he swiftly cleared a spot on the blanket, motioning to his long-time friend to join them. "You are just what we need to spice up our party, my friend. Come, you need a few glasses of wine to catch up with us. If Lindir will pass me that wine bottle, I will let you have my glass. It will not take me but a minute to run to the kitchen to fetch another. Do not the two of you become too comfortable while I am gone." Haldir laughed, and with that, rose gracefully to his feet and took off across the grass.

Lindir watched mortified as Glorfindel sat down gracefully next to Haldir on the blanket. At least Haldir had kept his lord occupied long enough for the blush to leave Lindir's face. But now the marchwarden had left the two of them alone, and Elbereth knew what Glorfindel had seen and heard of the exchange between him and Haldir.

"My lord." Lindir nodded his head at the glowing blond sitting across from him.

Glorfindel uttered a laugh. "You can drop my title for today, Lindir. Just plain Glorfindel will do." And with that he reached over and grabbed Lindir's wrist, pulling him closer until Lindir's face was inches from his own.

"I fear my friend has found a new toy. Are you sure you are up to his charms, Lindir?" Glorfindel's blue eyes roamed over Lindir's body as if he was lying naked before him. "I can see what interests Haldir, but do you know what you are setting yourself up for, mellonen (3)? I hope so, for I would hate to see your heart broken into tiny pieces. What Haldir wants, he usually obtains. Do you think you can handle him, Lindir? I fear in your youth you may be making a mistake. Haldir lays claim to no one, and you are not the one to tame him, I fear."

Blood again suffused Lindir's face as he stared in shock at the elf before him. "You-you have it all wrong," he stammered. "I do not want Haldir. He seemed lonely and I offered my company for today. It was Haldir's idea for the picnic. What you saw was not what it seemed. We-we are just friends."

Glorfindel smiled inwardly at the youngster. No matter how much he denied it, Glorfindel had seen the loving gestures between the two. He was surprised at Haldir's choice of one so innocent; his friend's taste usually ran to those with much more experience. But he supposed there was a first time for everything. He only hoped that Lindir was not hurt in the process. It was obvious that the minstrel was hooked, for Glorfindel had seen the love shining in his eyes. Perhaps he could help the young guardian. He would have a talk with Haldir later and find out his intentions.

Glorfindel released Lindir's wrist to pour himself a glass of wine. Straightening up, he took a sip then ran his tongue over his lips. "Mmm," he said, "this is very good. Hand me your glass, Lindir and I will pour you some more." Lindir handed over his glass and watched his love as he filled it almost to the brim then passed it back to Lindir. "If you do not mind I will help myself to some of your left-overs," the Elda said. He swiped a fruit-filled pastry from the plate and popped it into his mouth.

"So, Lindir, other than seducing my long-time friend, what do you plan to do with the rest of your free time?" the golden-haired beauty asked. "Will you sneak away by yourself to a private glade and compose one of those lovely songs you are always singing? You are quite good, you know. I have always wondered why you did not join the Harper's guild. The guard is not a place for someone with talent such as yours."

Tears welled in Lindir's eyes as the words left Glorfindel's mouth. He knew the warrior had not wanted him in the guard, but he thought that his many years of service might have accounted for something. Obviously not, as his commander still thought he belonged elsewhere. That hurt. Not to mention, that now his Lord thought he was chasing after Haldir like a common whore. Love or not, Glorfindel did not have the right to talk to him this way. As unwanted tears rolled slowly down Lindir's cheeks, his heart filled with anger at the injustice of the hurtful words. Rising to his feet, his eyes flashing fire, Lindir told his secret love just what he thought of him at the moment.

"I am not a common whore who lusts after anything in tight leggings. And I have given years of dedicated service protecting Lord Elrond's realm. I may not be the best, but I did place third in the archery tournament last year. Tebring says I am quite good, and is glad to have me as his partner. I can shoot six arrows a minute and I have killed more than my share of Orcs. Why you cannot give me the same consideration as others under your command, I will never know. What is it you think I lack? My hands are not soft. I have calluses from both bow and harp. They are thick, tough. I am not a novice. Even Haldir thinks I am capable, and he is a marchwarden. What have I ever done to you that you despise me so?"

And with that Lindir turned and ran back towards the Last Homely House. How could he ever face Glorfindel again? He had not meant to lose control, but too much had happened this day. He wanted to die. He had just made a total fool of himself in front of the one person he wanted so badly to impress. Lindir had every intention of locking himself in his room and staying there forever. His eyes blurry from falling tears, he did not see the other elf until he ran right into him.

"Lindir," Haldir cried, grabbing the sobbing elf's arm in a tight grip. "What is wrong? Why are you crying?"

1\. pen dithen - little one  
2\. pen velui - lovely one  
3\. mellonen - my friend


	6. Confessions

Glorfindel sat stunned as Lindir shouted at him. "What had he said that had upset the Elf so?" But before he could utter a word in defence, Lindir had run off. The ancient warrior silently replayed the conversation back in his mind. He had complimented Lindir on his music and simply asked him what he planned to do on his holiday. Maybe he was wrong to say what he did about Lindir and Haldir, but he was only teasing, after all, the two had been close to a kiss when he interrupted them earlier.

And wherever did Lindir get the idea that Glorfindel thought he was an incompetent guardian? Of course, he would prefer to have Lindir serve full- time, but Elrond was adamant that Lindir keep up with his music. The elf had so much talent it would be a shame for him to turn it aside. And he most definitely did not hate Lindir. How could anyone hate Lindir? Lindir was, well ... Lindir. Everyone liked him.

Something else was bothering the elf and Glorfindel guessed he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps Lindir was overworked. He would speak with Erestor and see if they could work out a schedule to give Lindir more time off. Maybe what he needed was a long rest. If need be, Glorfindel could give him an extra week off duty. Or, better yet, if he was so enamoured of Haldir, maybe he should ask Elrond if Lindir could spend a few weeks in Lothlórien. That way he could spend some time with his lover. If there was ever a way to cure melancholy, that would be it. Yes, that was just what Lindir needed. He would go see Elrond tonight after dinner.

Back at the Last Homely House, the last thing that Lindir wanted right now was to talk to Haldir. He was so ashamed, he wanted only to lay down on his bed and cry. But the Lórien elf's grip was strong and Lindir could not tear himself away.

"What happened, Lindir? Talk to me," Haldir insisted, shaking Lindir slightly in his emotion. "Did something happen between you and Glorfindel? Did he hurt you?"

"I can not talk to you now, Haldir. I have just made a complete fool of myself. I lost control in front of Lord Glorfindel and I will never be able to face him again. Not to mention, I have dragged you into the middle of it, and now you will think me the fool also. Please, Haldir, please just leave me alone." In his anguish, Lindir was pleading, begging the marchwarden. He truly just wanted to be by himself. If only Haldir would understand.

"Calm yourself, Lindir. I do not think you a fool." Haldir led Lindir to a bench and made him sit down. Placing the wineglass on the ground, he sat down next to his friend and wrapped his arms around him. "Start at the beginning, pen-neth (1). Tell me what happened. I will not think less of you." Haldir wiped a tear off Lindir's cheek and swept a stray lock of white hair from his face, tucking it behind one ear. Placing his hand under Lindir's chin, he turned the dejected elf's face to his until Lindir could not help but look directly into Haldir's hazel eyes. What the minstrel saw was kindness and compassion. "We have all had bad moments, Lindir, you must learn to overcome them. It will help if you talk this out. Keeping something inside just makes it worse. Let it out, Lindir, talk to me."

There was not much that Lindir could do. He may as well tell Haldir the whole story. Taking a deep breath, he started from the beginning, telling Haldir about drawing Glorfindel's name, his talk with Erestor and the main reason why he sought Haldir out in the first place.

"I only wanted to ask your advice as to what I could give for my gift," Lindir said with a sigh. "But everything has gone so wrong today. Haldir, every day I try hard to fit in, but I feel a stranger in my own home. Did you know Glorfindel did not want me to become a guardian? I had to beg Lord Elrond to make him take me. Everyone thought me frail and weak. I needed to prove them otherwise. Can you understand that? That is not the only reason, though. I love Imladris. It is the only home I know. I wanted to do my part to protect it. It is just that no one thought me capable. I truly believed after all these years that I had proved them wrong. But when Glorfindel told me he could not understand why I did not quit the guard and become a full time minstrel, it hurt. It is as if all the training I went through, all the time I spent on patrol was meaningless to him, and I guess because I knew he did not want me, I tried harder than most to please him.

"And so I lost control, Haldir. I told him that his words hurt me. I told him I could not understand why he treated me differently from everyone else, why he hated me. I told him that I thought I had served well as a guardian. And the worst part, Haldir, was that after I was through, he did not say anything. I wanted him to deny it. I wanted him to tell me that I was worthy, that it had not all been in vain. But he did not. He just looked at me as if I were a fool. And that is what he thinks I am. It is what he has always thought of me. And I cried, Haldir. The whole time I yelled at him, I cried. I am no better than an elfling. I am weak. I am what they say."

Lindir had exhausted all his tears. He spoke to Haldir in a voice so heavy with despair that Haldir's heart almost broke. Lindir's problem was a lack of self-esteem, unusual in one of the Firstborn, but one saw it occasionally. Haldir thought back to what Galadriel had told him. Lindir had lost his parents and had been given a home at Imladris through the generosity of Lord Elrond. Not unusual, for the Last Homely House was built as a haven for all kind. But Lindir's unique heritage was such that he was treated differently from the other orphaned elflings. He had noble blood and it would not be fitting for him to take on a role of servitude. So he was raised in the manor itself, but was not actually a fostered son. Unfortunately, his role models as he was growing-up were some of the most respected and oldest Elves on Middle-earth. The young elf could never hope to reach the heights they had attained, not without a few millennia of experience under his hat. But Lindir did not take this into account. Compared to the likes of Lords Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor, he felt a complete and utter failure. Haldir needed to find a way to boost his self-esteem. But it could not be done in a day. However, there was no time like the present to start.

"Lindir, is it possible you could have mistaken Glorfindel's meaning? I do not think even Lord Elrond would let you stay in the ranks as long as you have if you were not competent. Let me ask you something, Lindir. Do you trust me?"

Lindir nodded. He did trust Haldir. If the Marchwarden of Lothlórien was known for anything other than his romantic involvements, it was for his unswerving loyalty and honesty.

"If I offer to spar with you, to test your capabilities, would you trust my judgment of your skill? I may not hold as high a rank as Lord Glorfindel, but I have the confidence of my lord and lady that I am a skilled warrior and leader. I will be honest with you, Lindir. If I think you are lacking, I will not hesitate to tell you so, even if I have to hurt your feelings. Would you agree to such a test? Would that put your mind at ease?"

Lindir did not have to think too long. What Haldir was offering was a chance to prove himself, and Lindir was ready to take that chance, if to prove to none other than Haldir that he was of worth. "If you do not mind, Haldir, I will take you up on your offer. I promise not to be upset by your decision, whichever way it goes. I owe it to myself."

"Meet me at the training field in two hours, Lindir. That should give both of us enough time to change, ready our weapons and take a short rest. I have confidence in you, mellonen (2), I am sure you will do fine. Two hours, I will see you then. And Lindir," Haldir smiled gently at the teary- eyed youngster, "Do not worry about Glorfidnel's gift. I will help you choose one tomorrow."

Haldir watched as Lindir headed off to his room. When he was sure the other elf had gone, he headed back to the falls to find Glorfindel. He was sure his friend was wondering what had kept him so long, and knowing the seneschal, he probably needed someone to confide in also.

The lanky blond was still sitting on the blanket lost in thought, absent- mindedly sipping from his wineglass. He gave Haldir a quizzical look as the other sat heavily down beside him. "Did you see Lindir, Haldir? I have upset him somehow, and in turn, spoiled your afternoon plans."

"Aye, Glorfindel, I saw him, and yes, he was upset. But mostly because he felt he had acted a fool in front of you. You are right, at the moment he is overly sensitive and doubts his self-worth. He is under the impression you think him a failure and believe he has no skill. Is it true that you tried to persuade him from joining the guard?"

Glorfindel sighed. "It is true, Haldir, but it was a long time ago. Lindir was extremely young, and even then, had an unbelievable gift for music. His fingers would fly over the harp and the sounds that he forced from the instrument were almost as the music of the Ainur. He had more talent at his tender age than many that had been at it for centuries. The head of the Harper's Guild was enraged that we would even consider putting Lindir in a position where he would be susceptible to injury. For if Lindir lost the use of his fingers or his hand, he would not be able to play, for someone blessed with such skill, it would be devastating.

"But Lindir was stubborn. He did not want to join the Harper's Guild. He threatened to leave Imladris and live on his own if Elrond made him. He wanted to be a guardian. You had to have seen him back then, Haldir. There was not a firm muscle in his body and his hands were soft as a mother's breast. He could barely lift a practice sword, much less wield one. He would not have lasted a breath in a training class. I would not let anyone begin training in that condition and I told him so.

"Lindir did not speak to me for a fortnight. Unbeknownst to anyone, he would wake hours before dawn and run as fast as he could through the forest. He borrowed a practice sword from storage and searched the library for books on how to fight, sneaking away to try what he read. He did this for five years. Then one day, he strode into Lord Elrond's office and demanded he be allowed to demonstrate his skill. He would not take "no" for an answer. Elrond made me agree to test him, and I had to admit the young elf had come a long way. I did not tell Lindir that, reserving my judgment until I talked with my lord.

"But Lord Findal found out about the demonstration and was furious. He threatened to stop Lindir's music instruction if Lord Elrond allowed Lindir into a training class. So I was the one who had to tell Lindir for a second time that I did not want him. It was not an easy thing to do, and the disappointment in Lindir's eyes was heartbreaking.

"I thought that would be the end of it then, but Lindir carried out his threat. He packed all his belongings and ran away that night. One of my patrols found him three days later. He had been attacked by orcs and managed to kill five of them on his own before being rescued. He had taken an arrow to his shoulder and was unconscious by the time they brought him back to the Last Homely House. His injury was not life threatening and he was alert and responsive the next day, but he would not speak. He was angry with everyone, especially me, and took it out on us with his silence.

"He held his tongue until one day when Lady Galadriel came to visit. She sat with him for a long while and finally made Lindir come to his senses. She told Lindir she would see that Lord Elrond granted his wish. True to her words, she approached our lord on Lindir's behalf, and when Lindir was recovered from his wounds, I was instructed to let him begin training. Lord Findal had reluctantly agreed to a compromise. Lindir was allowed to train as long as he continued with his music.

"And he did well, Haldir. He was tall, so his long reach gave him advantage with the sword. He had the natural grace of a dancer, and what is the use of the sword, but dance. But it was at archery that he truly excelled. He used to laugh and say he could play his bowstring like a harp, and it was true. His eyesight was exceptionally keen, and once he mastered the technique, it was rare that he missed his target. Knives were another matter. Even to this day, they are not his favourite, but he manages them well enough.

"Aye, Haldir, Lindir has much skill. But Lord Findal and I stick to our agreement. Lindir must still devote as much time to his musical study as he does to Imladris' protection. Were he full time, I would have raised his rank long ago. But I cannot play favourites. I have no part-time officers. That would be unfair to those who devote their life to the career."

"I understand your situation, my friend," Haldir replied, as he thought about all that Glorfindel had said. "But perhaps, I am not the one who needs to hear these words. Lindir is under the impression that you never wanted him; that you think his hard work wasted. Have you never complimented him on his skill? Do you still fear to play favourites?" Haldir did not think his friend capable of such a trait, but he had to ask.

"I give credit where credit is due," Glorfindel growled. "I would not be a good leader if I did not. Just last year Lindir placed third in the archery tournament. If you remember, friend, it was you who won top prize. I believe Lindir could have made second if the wind had not given him an unlucky break. I was generous in my praise, but Lindir acted as if he did not hear my words. But aside from contests, Lindir has done more than earn his place. He is steadfast, true, and loyal. He is one of us, though he believes differently. I have tried to tell him so.

"I think there is more to his outburst today than meets the eye. You do know he has feelings for you, Haldir. I have seen it in his face. He is in love, mellonen (2). It is you who holds his heart, and I am afraid he wants more than you are willing to give him. Am I not correct in this?"

"Ah, Glorfindel, Lindir is in love all right, but not with me," Haldir said a little sadly. "He is lovely, though, is he not? I know not, who is the object of his desire, for he keeps it well hidden. But when, or if, I ever meet the one who is the other half of my soul, I would hope they be somewhat like Lindir. He suffers from a lack of self-confidence and is painfully shy, but there are not many that are so good-hearted. He is a treasure, that one."

"Well, that messes up my plan," Glorfindel grinned. "I was prepared to ask Lord Elrond tonight if Lindir could spend some time with you in Lothlórien. I figured a few weeks with his lover would cure his ills. But now you tell me that you two are not on those terms. You could have fooled me this afternoon, though. I saw the look on both of your faces, and if that is not love, then what is?"

"I must admit I lust after him," Haldir laughed. "Who could resist such innocence and beauty? But, alas, I am afraid you must rethink your plan. If you ask me, it would be more to his benefit if he were to spend more time with you."

"With me!" Glorfindel looked at his friend as if he had fallen from a tree. "I am the last person he wants to see. Am I not the one that he just vented his anger upon? Elbereth, Haldir, I would have thought you had more sense than to make such a suggestion."

Haldir leaned over and looked his friend straight in the eye. "In about an hour and a half, Glorfindel, Lindir is going to spar with me. He requested that I judge his skill, and has agreed to take my judgment to heart, no matter the result. He is deadly serious on this matter and will quit the guard if I say he is not worthy. We are not using practice weapons. It was one of his terms. It might do him good if you were to be there. He much values your opinion. It would mean so much more to hear he did well coming from your lips than mine."

"Does my opinion truly matter so much to him, Haldir?" Glorfindel asked, his face full of concern. Are you sure you have not misjudged where his feelings lie? I did see love in Lindir's eyes today. Of that, I am not mistaken. You are a creature of beauty, Haldir. There are many that long for your touch. Lindir, I am sure is not immune to your charm."

Haldir laughed. "Why are you so sure it is I that Lindir desires? I was not the only one present this morning. You are yourself the object of many eyes, what with your long gilded tresses and sea-blue eyes. Aye, you are right that Lindir is in love. Perhaps it is you that he pines for?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "Now my friend, I know you have lost your mind. If anything, Lindir avoids me. In fact," Glorfindel admitted sheepishly, "I sought to give him advice concerning your self earlier and he shrank from my touch. Besides, if I were the object of his affections, would he not have told me? Surely, my friend, you jest!"

"Ah, you are hopeless, Glorfindel,"Haldir thought. "You cannot see what is right under your nose. The elf longs for you and you treat him as a child. One word from you would have him melting at your feet, and you cannot even give him that. Yes, you have complimented him, but always to someone else, never to Lindir. That is all he asks of you, that you acknowledge that he exists."

"Be there for him this afternoon, Glorfindel. If not for him, do it for me. If you truly believe what you have just told me, tell it to Lindir. That is all he wants from you, your approval. Is it so hard to give it to him? It does no good for me to tell him what you think; he does not believe me. He needs to hear the words from your mouth. Give him that small thing, Glorfindel."

"If it is so important to you, Haldir, I will be there. I think you are mistaken though. After his harsh words today, I believe I am the last elf that Lindir would wish to see. It is not everyday that a guardian confronts his commanding officer. I made the same mistake once with Gil-Galad, and wished to crawl into the ground afterwards."

"Tell him that, you fool! Why is it that you can say these things to me and be so blind as far as Lindir is concerned?"

"We meet at the practice fields. I am going to bring these supplies back to the kitchen, and I will take that second bottle of wine with me. I want you to be sober when you talk with Lindir. Do not belittle this, Glorfindel. It means a lot to Lindir." And with that, Haldir began to pick up that which he had brought out for the picnic.

Glorfindel stretched and helped his friend pack the basket. Then, lost in thought, he ambled back to the Last Homely House. He would meet the two this afternoon, but against his better judgment. He sighed. How did he get himself into these situations? Lindir in love with me? Ha, Haldir is a fool! The pretty musician goes out of his way to avoid me at all costs. Haldir could be so obtuse at times. It was the marchwarden that had caught Lindir's eye, and if Haldir hurt his guardian, Glorfindel would see to it that the silver-haired warrior spent the rest of his days patrolling the black gates of Mordor.

1\. pen-neth - young one  
2\. mellonen - my friend


	7. The Lords of the Dance

A circle was drawn in the dirt. Tunics were removed and weapons unsheathed, the blades of the swords shining silver in the sun. A line was drawn in the middle of the circle and a sword placed on either side, blades facing outward, hilts aligned in opposite direction. The two warriors stretched, bended, and twisted supple limbs, making sure their tight muscles would be limber enough to withstand injury. When both were finished with the warm-up, they crossed the line and stood face to face in the centre of the circle. Arms were clasped in a warrior's handshake, as both raised their voices to the sky in an age-old song. When the last note died, each took one step back and on a count of three picked up their sword. The dance began.

Neither said a word as the two took the customary stance of experienced fighters, each circling the other waiting to see who would make the first move. Haldir attempted a simple lunge, his thrust easily blocked by a parry from Lindir. They continued to circle slowly, eyes locked, knees bent, bodies balanced on the balls of their feet. The dance picked up speed. Soon the clash of metal, an occasional grunt, and the glide of soft leather across the dirt were the only sounds in the small clearing. The two warriors twisted, turned, spun, and lunged in choreographed, familiar practiced moves. Haldir was surprised at the skill of his opponent. Lindir had been taught well. He was quick and light on his feet. The marchwarden's scowl turned to a smile as he began to enjoy the challenge. The look was mirrored on the face of Lindir. Haldir began a more intricate dance, wanting to see just how much Lindir could handle. Soon feet and blades were flying. Silver hair merged with white in a tantalizing swirl of arms, legs, dust, and flashing steel. The dance continued.

Clouds moved to block the sun at the same time a figure stepped out from where he had been watching hidden in the trees. Glorfindel knew that Lindir was a reputable swordsman, he had seen him at practice. But either he held back during his daily sparring with Tebring or Haldir brought out the best in him, for Lindir was holding his own with every move the Marchwarden made. And of Haldir's skill there was no doubt. They had been going at it for quite a while now and both were drenched, sweat running in rivulets down their chests, the front of their leggings dark and damp.

"Daro!" (1) Glorfindel's voice rang out loudly. Both warriors ground to a halt at the sharply spoken word. Weapons were lowered and placed on the ground as each stood bent slightly and panting. Two heads turned to look at the speaker. The faces of both elves were flushed and covered with sweat-streaked dust. Wet tendrils of hair clung to their cheeks, forehead, and back. Almost in tandem, two arms reached upward to sweep heavy locks up and away. They laughed at their mirrored motion.

"Take a break, drink some water. I have a skin over by that tree. You may sit for a while, Haldir. I will take up the sword against Lindir for the next round," Glorfindel spoke in a quieter voice.

"I hardly think that is fair as you are fresh-faced and Lindir has been going at it for some time now," Haldir chided. "So, seneschal, what did you think?" Lindir turned to look at his commander, a stony expression in his blue eyes.

Glorfindel looked down at the ground. "You are the judge of this contest, Haldir. I will give my opinion after all three phases are over. But, I believe the agreement between you and Lindir was that your say was the final word." With that he stood up and removed his tunic then walked over and picked up his scabbard from where it was leaning against a tree trunk. Unsheathing his sword, he began a series of slow practice moves designed to limber his muscles. Lindir watched him as he danced in slow motion.

"You told him of this?" Lindir turned and spoke angrily to Haldir. "Why?"

"It is his opinion that matters most, is it not, Lindir?" Haldir returned calmly. "While Glorfindel trusts my words, I think both of you would feel better if he saw the evidence with his own eyes. We all take things for granted sometimes, even as commanders. Plus we cannot watch everyone under our command on a daily basis. Has he never questioned you about your sparring partner? He would trust you to be honest in your evaluation."

"Aye," Lindir said. "He has asked and I have never had reason to fault Tebring. We know our lives may one day depend upon the other. I guess I have never thought about the reason behind the method before. How did you think I fared, Haldir?"

"How do you think you fared, Lindir?" Haldir reversed the question.

Lindir grinned. "I kept up with you, did I not?"

"You have nothing to worry about, pen dond (2). There is nothing wrong with your form. I would take one with your skill into the Lórien guard without hesitation, would take you now if I thought I could lure you away. We will continue this farce for Glorfindel's sake, but I believe you have your answer. You had best stand up now, before your muscles tighten. I think your partner is ready for you."

Again, the dancers circled, Anor's (3) rays casting a golden glow on pale flesh. This time it was white hair that mingled with gold as the dance started slow then increased in tempo. Blue eyes locked as blades sang. Each thrust and parry was carried out with grace and litheness. Time passed and Haldir watched, mesmerized by the beauty before him. Then a curse and a soft cry rent the air, the dance faltered, and Lindir was on his back with a sword at his throat, his own just out of reach. Glorfindel kicked it to him. "Arise!" he said moving his weapon away from Lindir. "We will practice that move once more. Move to the left next time when I feint." And with that they were off again. Lindir did not make the same mistake twice.

The dance continued, moving faster and faster, always in a circle. They were not allowed to step out of bounds. That would give the other forfeit. As he had done with Haldir, Lindir matched Glorfindel stroke for stroke, but the minstrel was tiring. Haldir could hear him as he fought to catch his breath. His movements were not as smooth and quick. They would fight until one fell again, but there was still archery and knives left to judge. Haldir stepped up to the edge of the circle and as Glorfindel had done earlier, issued the command to cease fighting. Swords were put away and the two combatants granted a rest and water break. Haldir left to set up the archery targets. He would allow Lindir a chance to show his best skill, but had already decided to cancel the test of knives. They were not Haldir's favourite either. And it was pointless anyway. Lindir had already proven what he set out to accomplish.

1\. Daro! - Halt!  
2\. pen dond - tall one  
3\. Anor's - Sun's (the)


	8. On Your Mark

Archery was Haldir's passion and his skill with the bow was renowned. He had trained with the best, for his father before him was a champion archer, and it was his father's hands that had guided his first arrow to the bowstring. To test Lindir, Haldir simply used the same that his father used so long ago with him and Orophin. Haldir and Lindir would be allowed twelve shots in three rounds at a stationary target, then six shots in two rounds at a moving target. Lindir had chosen the long stick on the draw and would go first.

Haldir did not pay much attention as Lindir worked with his equipment, until he saw Lindir strap a glove onto his left hand. So the minstrel was left-handed, he mused, surprised. Left-handedness was rare among elves but greatly respected. He wondered why he had not noticed it before. After all, they had competed against each other just last year. Not that it would give Lindir an advantage, it was just unusual.

An archer's glove is not just decoration. Leather covered only the tips of the first three fingers of the hand, leaving the palm of the hand bared. It was designed to protect only the part of the fingers that actually touched the bowstring. In addition to a glove, an archer wore a leather band or guard on the other arm that held the bow. This protected the inside of the arm from the twang of the string, which could cause a quite painful bruise.

Haldir watched Lindir string his bow. The elf removed a long length of twisted hair from his quiver, placing the loops on each end over the ends of the bow, settling the one at the bottom into a grooved notch. Resting that same end of the bow on the outside of his left foot, he stepped over the bow and under the string with his right. Then pressing the back of the bow gently with the flat of his hand he caused it to flex against his right thigh just enough so that he could slide the other loop on the string into a similar groove at the top of the carved weapon. The curved wood now pulled the bowstring taut. To ensure that it would not slip, he drew on it gently a few times. Not all the way, for that was not good practice, just enough to ensure that it would stay in place.

Unlike the famed archers of Mirkwood, the guardians of Lothlórien and Imladris did not carry longbows. They preferred the shorter and more graceful recurve. The arguments as to which was best had gone on since the beginning of time. To Haldir, who could shoot each with accuracy, the point was moot. The main difference between a longbow and a recurve, in spite of what most thought, was not so much that the longbow was "longer", but that the limbs of the bow did not touch the string when the bow was strung. In the longbow's favour, it was lightweight, could be shot accurately held at almost any angle-even horizontal-and it was very quiet. However, it had more vibration, was not as fast and due to its length, was harder to manoeuvre in a tight spot than a recurve.

The tips of a recurve bow curved away from the string. It was this curve that gave the bow its beautiful look. But that was not why it was favoured. Although not as accurate when held at an angle, it was very fast and less prone to hand shock. And because a recurve was shorter than a longbow, it was easier to handle when firing, useful when perched in a tree. The main disadvantage of the recurve was its weight. It was much heavier to pack and carry around. Haldir grinned. There was good reason for his muscular build! But, there would be no debate today, for they were not of Mirkwood, and although somewhat different in look, both bows in use today were recurves.

Lindir had finished preparing his bow and now began to check the arrows in his quivers. They were already separated by the size of the fletching. Smaller feathers were used for longer distance and faster flight, larger for shorter range and stability. Since the stationary target was to be set at quite a distance, he picked up the quiver containing the arrows with the small fletching and strapped it to his back. He would change his bowstring when he switched quivers, as the number of strands had control over how his arrows would fly.

These were some of the reasons why most archers made their own bowstrings and their own arrows. The arrows of the Lórien guards, including Haldir's were fletched all in white, with just a trace of black edging the tip of one feather. Imladris guardians used a combination of colour, red, for the cock or hen feather-the one facing 90 degrees to the nock-and brown for the others. Cresting, decorative markings along the arrow shaft, was to individual taste and helped distinguish ownership. Lindir had a distinct pattern of rings repeating the Imladris colours on his, while Haldir's were more elaborate, depicting a stylized vine of green and gold leaves.

Approaching the shooting line, Lindir aligned his right shoulder with the target and stood with his feet shoulder length apart, knees slightly flexed. Holding his bow horizontally across his body, the bowstring resting against the inside of his right arm, he pulled an arrow from his quiver with his left hand, brought it across his bow and nocked it on the centre of the bowstring. Raising the bow up to a vertical position he used just the tips of his first three fingers to draw the bowstring back until his left hand touched his chin. Sighting down the arrow to the target he found his mark, aiming slightly higher to account for the arrow's drop in flight. He took a deep breath, let it out halfway, steadying his movements and relaxing his body, then gently opened his fingers and released the bowstring. With a satisfying thud, the tapered tip of the arrow sank deep into the centre circle of the target. However, the impact was high and to the left of dead centre. Adjusting his aim continuously until he found a true mark, he fired his remaining practice arrows. When finished, he walked over to the target to retrieve them.

Haldir stepped up next for his practice round. When he had finished and retrieved his arrows, Lindir stepped up to the line and the competition began. At the end of three stationary rounds, both had not once missed the centre ring of the target. Each had a perfect score and the competition stood at a tie. The next stage would be much harder.

A rope was tied at a great height between two trees. Another rope was tied perpendicular to the center and the target was attached to the bottom of the vertical rope at an appropriate shooting height. The rope was then twisted a certain number of turns so that when released, the target would spin, faster at the beginning of the release, slower with each revolution. The idea was to hold off shooting during the fast revolution, releasing the majority of shots at a rapid fire pace during the later stage, but not waiting too long, for the competition was timed. Any arrow that hit the front of the target scored. It was rare to score all six.

The last phase of a tournament competition involved a hanging target that swung from side to side, entailing the archer to move his bow with the swing, timing the placement of the arrow, taking into account the travel time through the air. Haldir and Lindir had agreed to skip this phase only because of the difficulty of setting up the target. It usually required help, and for their purposes, was just not worth the effort.

Haldir went first this time. At the end of the first round, he had managed to fire four of his six arrows into the front of the target, most landing close to the centre ring, one at dead centre.

Lindir waited patiently for his turn. When it came, he had an arrow nocked and ready. He watched as the target was released, waiting for the perfect moment to fire. As the revolutions slowed, he released all six arrows, one right after the other in a steady stream. He came very close to matching Haldir. Three arrows hit the front of the target dead centre. A fourth hit, but did not have enough force behind it to stick, bouncing off and falling to the ground. Each archer would have one more round to try to best the other.

Haldir readied himself for the last round. At the release of the target, he fired his six arrows so rapidly that his movements were a blur. When the target had slowed to almost a stop, all six of his shots had landed, none outside of the third ring. It was an amazing show of skill, and the Marchwarden could not help but grin at his results.

Lindir was determined to make a good showing. As Haldir, he waited for what he deemed the perfect moment to fire, and then released his six arrows with almost as much speed as the Marchwarden had done before him. He tried his best, but only five of the six arrows hit the target. However, like Haldir, all five were within the first three rings.

Lindir approached his friend, complimented him on his fine shooting and conceded to his loss. But he was not ashamed of his effort. Haldir had a talent with the bow that was almost unmatched, so he was quite proud to have stood up so well against him.

The two elves put away their equipment while Glorfindel took down the target then headed for the storage shed to put it away.

The Marchwarden had already told Lindir that he had decided to waive the match with knives, so Lindir was ready to hear Haldir's evaluation by the time Glorfindel returned. Walking over to the two elves the seneschal stood silently while Haldir pronounced his judgment.

"I told you earlier, Lindir, there was nothing wrong with your form. You are better with the bow than the sword, but we all have our favourites. There was nothing in your performance today that was lacking. You did exceptionally well Lindir, with both weapons. But I expected that you would. I trust you will take what I have said to heart and that this will ease your doubts."

"Thank you, Haldir. I told you I would stand by your decision and I respect your judgment. I would be glad to serve under you if an opportunity arises. I appreciate the time you have taken to work with me today. I will make it up to you soon. If you ever need a favour, do not hesitate to call on me."

"Be careful what you offer, mellonen (1), I may take you up on it!" Haldir said with a laugh. He reached over and gave Lindir a hug. "I suggest we put our equipment away quickly and head to the baths. All three of us definitely need one!"

"Wait, Lindir," Glorfindel put out his hand and gently grasped Lindir's wrist. "I want to second Haldir's opinion. I have never doubted your abilities, Lindir. Perhaps, I should have told you so more often, but your actions have always spoken for themselves. I accept no slackers in my ranks. If you could not perform what I asked of you, I would have released you from duty a long time ago. I have long been impressed with your skill with the bow, but you did surprise me today with your swordsmanship. Either you have been holding back with Tebring, or you found some inner strength today you did not know you had. I felled you once, but I was more rested. You did not make the same mistake again, although I tried to trick you into it. Do not ever doubt yourself again, Lindir."

Lindir gave a curt nod to his lord and was about to walk away when Glorfindel stopped him once more. "I have not yet finished what I wish to say to you. Lindir. I owe you an apology for this morning. Haldir told me that you two are only friends. I was too quick to jump to conclusions, and I resent now the words I spoke. Your private life is not my concern. I sometimes open my mouth before I think. If I offended you in any way, and obviously I did, then I am truly sorry.

And while it is true, Lindir, that I once discouraged you from joining the guard, I had good reason. And it was not your lack of skill. I did turn you down the first time you asked, for to be honest, you would never have made it through training. I think you know that now. But the second time, after you had worked so hard on your own, I would have accepted you. But it was not up to me Lindir. Elrond and Findal did not want to expose you to injury. I was bound by Lord Elrond's decision and he left it to me to turn you down. It was not an easy thing for me to do, for I know how hard you worked and how badly you wanted my approval. And I say again, I would have given it gladly, Lindir, but it was not my decision to make.

If Lady Galadriel had not spoken for you and convinced both Lord Elrond and Lord Findal to grant your wishes, you would never have been allowed entrance, no matter my opinion. I am sorry that I let you think differently all these years. Again, I hope you can accept my apology and forgive my lack of forethought. And I have never hated you, Lindir. I count you as my friend, and hope that one-day you will feel the same. You are as much like family to me as Erestor. I will excuse your behaviour this morning, as I think I gave you more than enough cause to lash out. I am willing to forgive and forget if you are."

"No, my lord, it is I who should apologize," Lindir spoke candidly. "There was no excuse for my behaviour, and I regretted it as soon as I left your presence. I am glad you told me the truth about your decision long ago, for I did hold that against you. And I regret also my behaviour back then, for I acted selfishly and was foolish to run away and hide. That I was rescued by your forces at the time, only served to fuel my anger. If youth is an excuse, then I will take it, for I can only say that I sorely wronged you that day. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, it would mean the world to me. I value your friendship. I have ever looked up to you and Erestor and to you, Haldir. To count you as my friends means a lot."

Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief. "Apology accepted. Let us wash off this dirt and sweat and I will retrieve that second bottle of wine from the kitchen. I think we could all do with a drink. Come, my friends, let us not tarry. Between the three of us we smell worse than Orcs!"

Glad to have things settled between them, the three companions headed back towards the Last Homely House, looking forward to the relaxing waters of the baths, and a chance to rest before meeting once again in the dining hall for supper.

1\. mellonen - my friend


	9. The Bath House

-The Last Homely House, Imladris:

The large indoor bath at the Last Homely House was a marvel in design. Water from a nearby hot spring was piped into two large sunken pools of polished rock set in the center of an immense high-ceilinged room. A third pool to the left contained cool water drawn from artesian wells. Broad steps lined the sides of all three, forming a ledge where bathers could sit comfortably. Chased copper bowls were placed in convenient spots around the pools and held soap, sponges, and an assortment of fragrant oils. Wooden benches lined the walls and two large wardrobes held fresh linen drying cloths and clean robes.

At the northern end of the chamber, a garden containing small trees and fragrant flowers gave a sense of the outdoors and added a splash of colour. In the middle of the garden was a large fountain. It was made of a series of shallow, fluted stone bowls placed at different levels. Water trickled gently over the fluted sides, providing relaxing, soothing sounds that added to the chamber's ambience. The floor was polished stone, but its surface was etched with flowing lines in the shape of leaves and flowers, its slight texture preventing falls from bare feet on a slippery surface. Heated air rose from the two large pools forming a warm mist, which kept the room at a mild temperature year round.

The three warriors found they had the place to themselves. Sweaty leggings and soiled tunics were quickly removed and soon they were relaxing in the warm, soothing water, naked as the day they were born. Elves were not modest when it came to public bathing. All believed in the beauty of the body, and none felt they had reason to hide.

Lindir had been in the baths before with Lord Glorfindel, but never in such a companionable circumstance, and never in such close proximity. He was delighted with the opportunity and could not help but sneak glances at the one who held his affection. For Glorfindel was magnificent. Droplets of water clung to his golden skin, rolled slowly down his muscled chest to melt into the gentle waves that lapped at his trim waist. The ends of his long silky hair, now free from the warrior braids he usually wore, floated like strands of spun gold on the surface of the water, reminding Lindir of the tails of the flashy fish that swam in the pond in Lord Elrond's garden. Under the water Lindir could just glimpse the powerful corded thighs of the warrior's long legs. Glorfindel had the muscle and sinewy build of a warrior, but not the bulk. For his overall frame was slim and lithe, his movements that of a dancer. His was an ethereal beauty and it took Lindir's breath away.

Haldir had a different build that was no less pleasing. Only an inch shorter than the golden blond, but still tall by Elven standards, he did not have the aristocratic lines of the ancient warrior. His shoulders were broad and heavily muscled, a characteristic that was enhanced by his narrow waist and flat abdomen. And the planes of his face followed that of his body. His cheeks were slightly pudgy, and on an elfling would have been called chubby. A large, but straight nose led to the most sensuous lips that Lindir had ever seen on an elf. For like Haldir's cheeks, they were full and rosy. Haldir's forehead was high and broad and it was that and the straightness of his posture that gave him the aristocratic grace that his body thickness belied. His silver-blond hair fell past his waist and shone like mithril. Like Glorfindel's, it fanned like fine silver thread on top of the water. Two warriors so different in look, lovely beyond imagine.

Erestor had spent most of the morning finishing Lord Elrond's report, his only interruption that of his young assistant with his amusing dilemma. Lunch had been a hurried affair, consisting of a cup of hot tea and two apples he had begged from a servant who had passed by his door.

Retiring to his room later that afternoon for a rest, he had been awakened from his short nap by a loud growl from his stomach. He was on his way to the kitchen to see what he could beg from the cooks for a snack, when a commotion in the hall caught his attention. Two Imladris guardians, both out of breath and panting heavily were in a harried discussion with one of the house servants. The servant turned and catching sight of Erestor, directed the elves his way. The advisor recognized Tambor and Garion who had ridden out with the morning patrol. Tambor made quick of his report to Erestor, whose lips soon drew into a taut line. Erestor gestured to the servant to come hither. "Elrond is needed at the healing house, immediately."

The servant bowed and rushed hurriedly away. Erestor touched the shoulder of Tambor. "Go, I will notify Glorfindel." After querying another servant, Erestor quickly headed to the bathhouse.

Feeling ever so much better after their bath, Glorfindel, Haldir, and Lindir were putting on clean robes when Erestor entered the chamber. "Lord Glorfindel," the advisor spoke calmly, "I need a word with you in private." Glorfindel walked over to where Erestor was standing and after listening to the advisor, turned to his friends. "Haldir, I need you to dress quickly and meet me outside my room. You will have to excuse us, Lindir. We shall see you later on tonight." And with that, the seneschal hurried after Erestor, who had already left. Haldir gave the minstrel an apologetic look then quickly followed after the Imladris lords.

Lindir took his time heading back to his quarters. Although he regretted the loss of companionship, he was tired after the afternoon's exercise, and as dinner would not be served for several hours, he would use the time to catch up on his rest. Once inside his room he ran his fingers through his damp hair to remove the tangles then fastened the long locks into a simple plait. He removed the damp robe he had borrowed from the wardrobe in the bath and threw it into a basket on the floor reserved for soiled clothes. He pulled a simple cotton robe from his own closet and after slipping it on, curled up on top of his bed. It was not long before he was deep in reverie.

Sometime later, Lindir was awakened by a soft knock. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he moved off the bed, wrapped his robe tightly around him and walked over to open the door. "Lindir," said Glorfindel softly, "may I come in? Receiving a nod from the still sleepy minstrel, the tall warrior stepped inside.

"I need you to sit down, Lindir." Glorfindel again spoke softly as he placed his hand lightly on Lindir's arm and led him to the side of the bed. Once Lindir was seated on the edge, the seneschal sat down next to him so that he was facing the younger elf.

"Lindir, one of the patrol groups had a run-in with bandits this afternoon. The bandits were subdued, but not before some of our elves sustained injury. There were no deaths, but one of those hurt was Tebring. He took a deep axe cut in the leg. Lindir, Lord Elrond did his best, but he could not save Tebring's leg. I am sorry. I know Tebring is a good friend."

Pain and shock filled Lindir's eyes and Glorfindel winced to see it, for it reflected the way he felt inside after seeing the damage the barbarous men had inflicted on the faithful guardian. As a commander, he had to distance himself from the hurt and suffering of his elves, but he could never wipe it away entirely. Tebring was well liked and had been partnered with Lindir and Tambor for a long time. The warrior knew the closeness that grew between elves that depended on each other for survival. To see one of their own so maimed, hurt. Already Glorfindel's heart ached, but he knew that Lindir and Tambor would feel even worse.

"Does he know yet?" Lindir asked his lord. "No," Glorfindel replied. "Elrond gave him a sleeping draught, so he will be out for most of the night. I know you wish to see him, but Elrond has requested no visitors until he is more stable. He is not in danger, but Elrond wants to be there when Tebring awakens, so he can break the news himself."

"What of Tambor?" Lindir inquired of the other elf that worked with them so often on patrol.

"Garion is with Tambor," Glorfindel replied. "They were both participants in the fight. Neither of them was hurt physically, but Garion knows how close Tambor is to Tebring. He will not leave Tambor alone tonight."

"Which brings me to you, Lindir, I do not want you alone with your thoughts tonight either. If you like I shall ask Haldir to stay with you, or if you would prefer someone else, I shall talk to them for you. I am sure you will be able to see Tebring tomorrow and I want you and Tambor to be there for him. He will need both of your strength in the days to come.

"My lord," Lindir asked, his eyes on his hands which were resting in his lap, "would... would you mind staying with me tonight?"

Glorfindel made an effort to keep any expression from showing on his face. He had been so sure that Lindir would ask for Haldir, that the minstrel's request had taken him by surprise. He thought for a moment about refusing, but one look at Lindir's face told him that to do so might hurt the young elf's psyche even more.

"I have errands to which I must attend and I shall need to arrange for dinner to be brought to your room later, but I will be more than happy to stay with you, Lindir. I shall return as soon as I have finished. In the meantime, I am going to ask Haldir to sit with you. Do not worry about Tebring. Healer Anaran and Lord Elrond will watch over him tonight."

"Thank you, my Lord, for telling me about Tebring yourself, and for agreeing to stay. I know you have things to arrange, and I do not mind talking to Haldir for awhile. You are so lucky to have him as your friend, for he has a good heart. I will miss him when he returns to Lothlórien." Lindir smiled. Now that he had come to know the Marchwarden, he realized how silly he had been to be so frightened of him.

"Haldir is a good friend, Lindir. 'More than you know,'" thought Glorfindel. "I will go talk with him and I will see you later on." Glorfindel turned and walked slowly from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

It was not a few moments later that the door opened again and a worried looking Marchwarden hurried over to Lindir to voice his consolation.


	10. Matters of the Heart

Glorfindel had gone to speak with Haldir the moment he left Lindir's room. The Marchwarden was relaxing on his bed with a glass of red wine in his hand. Lifting his other, he made a casual wave towards the bottle sitting on a nearby table. "Help yourself, it is quite good."

"One glass, for I have not much time," Glorfindel replied with a smile. He picked up a glass and filled it with the dark red liquid, then crossed the room and plopped down in a large padded chair. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and rested them on a matching, cushioned ottoman. "I have a favour to ask of you, gwador (1).

Haldir raised an eyebrow curiously at the request. "And that is?" he replied, wondering what the Glorfindel wanted.

"I just told Lindir about Tebring. He is understandably upset, and I would rather he not be alone tonight. I have asked Garion to stay with Tambor, and had thought to ask you to stay with Lindir. When I mentioned it, he surprisingly asked me to stay instead." Glorfindel took a sip of wine and then sighed. "I agreed, but I have errands that will take a while to finish. Would you mind talking with him until I return?"

Expecting an affirmative answer, Glorfindel was surprised when Haldir remained quiet. "Haldir, is there a problem?" the Elda asked somewhat concerned. His friend was looking at him with a very serious expression in his hazel eyes.

"Glorfindel, what are your feelings towards Lindir?" Haldir asked, thinking it was about time some things were laid in the open.

The ancient warrior frowned at his friend. "I thought we had straightened that out this afternoon." he replied a bit testily. "Lindir is a qualified guardsman as proved by your demonstration, not that I ever doubted him. But, I already gave my opinion and my apology. Haldir, you were there. What are you intimating?" Setting down his wineglass, Glorfindel stared stonily at Haldir.

Haldir paused for a moment before replying. Moving so that he was sitting up on the bed in a cross-legged position, he fielded his friend's question with another. "I meant, how do you feel about Lindir personally? He is an attractive elf. You two would make a good pair."

Glorfindel let out an exasperated growl. "An i 'aer a in elin, Haldir (2)! Since when did you become a matchmaker? If I remember correctly, you admitted your lust for the minstrel only this morning. As to my feelings, Lindir is a good friend, a fine warrior, and one of the best harpists in Imladris." The Elda took another sip of wine and finished in a gentler tone. "I am not looking for a lover, pen venui (3), if that is what you are implying. I am past that stage in my life."

The Marchwarden laughed, the silvery peals floating merrily on the air. "Glorfindel, for all your ancient wisdom, my friend, you know almost nothing about matters of the heart. Did the Balrog take out your eyes? How can you have lived this long around Lindir and not realized that his every glance, aye, his very breath is directed towards you? Elbereth, the elf is head over heels in love with you. He lives, sleeps, eats, and breathes for you.... Only you, Glorfindel..... And you are totally oblivious of him. He pines for you, gwador (1)." Haldir leaned forward, noticing the flustered look on Glorfindel's face. "You should take more notice. He would be good for you."

"Y-You are daft, Haldir! Glorfindel was so astonished at the Marchwarden's words that he was spluttering. He sat up in his chair. Where do you get these notions? Only this morning Lindir was trembling at your touch, taking bites of food from your fingers. Lindir was the hapless fly and you had him deftly caught in your web. Aye, gwador (1), love was in Lindir's eyes and they were directed at none other than you!"

Haldir raised his eyebrows, the habitual smirk plastered on his sensuous lips. "Oh, but you are wrong, meldir (4)," he said with a wry grin. "Lindir's heart was yours long before he met me. He was trembling in fright of my reputation, which by the way is greatly overrated, and you missed his expression when you so blithely appeared. It was one of great longing - and it was directed at you, but it quickly shifted to embarrassment, for he was ashamed for you to see him so compromised." At this, Haldir became serious. "I know of what I speak, Glorfindel, for I saw with my own eyes the way he looked at you."

A long silence reigned in the air. "I hope you are wrong about that, Haldir," Glorfindel replied sadly. "My heart belongs to no one. The door to that chamber closed long ago. I have loved before. It hurts, and my heart is scarred. Love is for the young, not this ancient soul. When and if the sea finally calls me, I will sail alone. That is, and has always been my destiny."

"It does not have to be that way, mellonen (5). If you would only open your heart again you could find happiness. No one should spend his life alone, even you, my golden friend. Love can heal the hurts you hold inside. Your heart may be scarred, but if you open it to the light, it can be as new." Haldir spoke softly, but emphatically, trying to gauge the mood of his friend, wincing at the pain that showed in the depths of the Elda's eyes.

Obviously, someone had hurt the ancient warrior. Hurt him so badly that he was afraid to love again. There were rumours of a great love affair between the Lord of the Golden Flower and the Lord of the Fountain, but Haldir had never believed the truth of them and Glorfindel, who had been his friend for a long time, never spoke of it. Now, he wondered.

"Who was it?" he asked finally. "Who hurt you so that you close off your heart? Was it Ecthelion? Is it true then what they say?"

Glorfindel looked at his silver-haired friend with a mixture of hurt and anger on his face. "Since when are you so versed in love, Haldir? I do not see a lover at your side. You flit from one bed to the next and leave a string of broken hearts behind you. But you claim no one. You are just like me, gwador (1), although we handle ourselves in a different way. You know why I can not give away my heart. And since you dare to ask, Ecthelion was my friend, just as you are. There was never more between us.

"You ask who ... was my love? They all were. I see their faces every night in my dreams. Nevrast, Gondolin, Dagorlad, many places before that. My friends, my kin ... gone. They are no more, lost. Lost to me, my comrades-in-arms, brave warriors that I marched to their death. They haunt me. I loved, love, them all. They call to me. Each has taken a piece of my heart, Haldir. There is nothing left. I have no love to give, not even to myself."

Such pain and sadness radiated from the great warrior, that Haldir felt it palpably. He knew of what Glorfindel spoke, for there were many nights that Rúmil and Orophin, his brothers, wrapped their arms around him, trying in vain to help him chase away the dark dreams. He thought of the many times he had extolled the virtues of the dead to grieving families. Their eyes would appear in his night dreams too. Glorfindel was right. It had affected his heart and he had lived but one life. Glorfindel's angst must be great.

But there was a difference between Haldir and the warrior that sat with such sorrow in the chair across from him. For Haldir had known the love of another. And it was something he would never regret. If he closed his heart to others, it was only because his heart was not yet free of that love, even though the object of his affection had long passed on. It was that memory which sustained him. And yet, Glorfindel had not even that, he thought sadly. His heart ached for his friend.

"I am sorry, pen venui (3). I too, have troubling dreams. But you are wrong about me. I have known love and it is that love which keeps me going. One day I will be free to love again and I will embrace it with open arms. Open your heart, Glorfindel. Open your heart and feel that which makes life worth living."

Haldir had risen from the bed and now knelt before the golden-haired Vanya, his hazel eyes searching the fair face of the other, entreating his friend to listen to his words. "Give yourself the chance to know happiness. You give so much of yourself to others and you ask for nothing in return. Let someone in, Fin. Let someone in before it is too late."

Glorfindel gazed into the warm brown depths of Haldir's eyes, seeing the compassion and love that the silver-haired elf felt for him and was touched. They had a lot in common, he thought, he arrogant Marchwarden and the great Balrog Slayer. He placed a slender hand on each side of the familiar pudgy cheeks, bent his head down and placed a soft, lingering kiss on Haldir's full lips. "You are worth your weight in gold, my bold warrior," he said softly. "I am glad to call you friend." He raised his head, but kept his hands on the kind face. "When that time comes, Haldir, I want you on the ship at my side. I want us to sail together. Promise me that. Promise me that you will not join the faces in my dreams." Sail with me, gwador (1). When Middle-earth has no more use for the Firstborn, sail with me to Valinor, sail with me to Aman."

"We will sail together, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. We will sail as great warriors and friends. But I hope when we do, that our loves are at our side. I will keep your promise but you must promise me to open your heart, just once. Let the door open just a little. Someone is there for you. It may not be Lindir, but there is someone who waits to claim you."

"If it were only as easy as you imply, Haldir," Glorfindel thought.

"Aye, Haldir, I will try. Now, I must go. Stay with Lindir for a while, I shall not be long."

"Rest easy, Glorfindel. I will stay as long as I am needed. Give a thought to what I have said. Keep an open mind with Lindir tonight. Sooner or later, no matter your feelings, you two must talk."

"I will not hurt him, Haldir, at least not intentionally. Now, I truly must go. We will speak of this later." And with those words, Glorfindel closed the door and was gone.

Haldir sighed. He had done his best to help Lindir, but it did not look promising. At least he had opened the door. Finishing the last of the wine in his glass, he stood in front of the gilded mirror in his room and gazed at his reflection. "Maybe my friend, it is time you took your own advice. Maybe it is time you opened your heart again."

Squaring his shoulders, he turned away from the mirror, left his room and walked down the hall. Lindir was hurting and he did not want to keep him waiting.

1\. gwador - brother (lit. sworn brother)  
2\. An i 'aer a in elin, Haldir! - By the sea and stars, Haldir!  
3\. pen velui - lovely one  
4\. meldir - friend  
5\. mellonen - my friend


	11. The Comfort of a Friend

"What happened, Haldir?" Lindir asked. "Did you see Tebring?"

"I am sorry about your friend, Lindir," Haldir said softly. "They were bringing him in to the healing house when we arrived. He was not conscious and I could not see his injury as he was covered with a blanket. They took him in to Lord Elrond immediately. Glorfindel will have more information, I am sorry, that is all I can tell you."

Haldir sat down on the bed next to his friend. Lindir was a picture of dishevelment. Several strands of moon-white hair had escaped from his long mussed braid, and his cotton robe was wrinkled and pulled from his bout of sleep. But the young elf did not seem aware of his condition. Compassion, shock and pain radiated from his wide blue eyes as he gazed at the Marchwarden.

"It will kill him, Haldir." Lindir spoke in anguish. "He will not take to being crippled. Cowardly dogs are Humans! They are not like in your story, Haldir. They are cruel and hateful. What reason had they to come to Imladris? What reason had they to attack us?"

"I do not know, pen-neth (1)." Haldir shrugged. "I do not pretend to understand their motives. The Apanonar (2) are like the dandelion - a puff of wind and they are gone. They are not bound to this world as we are, and while none of us (races) know our final fate, Men above all, resent our immortality. We who have lived long see the world with different eyes. Our dreams are not of items of material wealth, but of spirit, essence. We value beauty in its aesthetic form, Men think only of its value in coin. Men see glory in ownership, power, and wealth and the bandits are the worst of Men. They kill not only for survival, but for lust and greed and care not who stands in their way. They do not see the value of the seed, only the mighty oak that it becomes."

For a moment all was silent, as the two elves sat lost in thought. Then a gust of wind blew the curtains inward and a slow roll of thunder broke the quiet. Tonight, even nature was upset, for there was in the air the smell of rain and the slight burnt aroma that precedes a sudden storm.

"And Tebring?" said Lindir bitterly, "What is to become of him? His life as a warrior is over. Never again will he run with the wind, chase the rain, or fly through the trees. I worry for him."

"So you should, Lindir. So you should." Haldir rubbed Lindir's arm absentmindedly. Tebring will suffer through many different phases before he comes to terms with his loss. He will first feel sadness and self-pity, later anger. He will need his friends by his side every step of the way. With time, he should resign himself to his fate. That sounds cruel, but it is what every warrior must face. We subject ourselves to injury or death whenever we pick up a weapon. Tebring will weather this. You must give him time."

Lindir hung his head. "I hope with all my heart, Haldir, that your words are true. I would not wish to lose him."

The older warrior looked at the billowing curtains and a slight smile creased his face. "The rain bathes the earth and makes it look as new. So it will be with your friend. His fears will wash away in time and as water brings new life, so will he find new paths to travel. I have seen this happen many times before, Lindir. Trust me."

Rosy lips returned the smile as Lindir too, watched the heavy fabric move with the wind. "You know I do, Haldir." I have learned much about you these past few days and can see why your lord and lady speak so highly of their Marchwarden."

Time slipped by as the two talked further and found out more about each other. Rain began to fall in large drops and soon the atmosphere was charged with static from the bolts of lightning that rent the air as the heavy drops became sheets of water falling from the sky. Ear-splitting booms shook the ground and rattled the walls as the splendour of the storm grew in force, 'till finally, heaven took its rest and the dark of the storm turned to the dark of night. The fury of the elements tamed, the music of the various night crawlers now the only sounds carried on the fresh-scented air.

The Marchwarden knew it would not be much longer before Glorfindel returned. He was rather surprised that Lindir had asked the seneschal to stay with him, knowing how timid the young elf was. It was a bold move for Lindir and Haldir realized that the young minstrel had no idea what he was letting himself in for.

The Lórien elf had known the golden-haired Vanya for a long time. Glorfindel, like Erestor and Haldir, had a side of him that he kept hidden. Outwardly, he was compassionate, teasing and boisterous, with a fiery temper that showed itself when provoked. But there was much hurt inside the ancient warrior. He had not only lost his life when Gondolin fell, but his friends and home as well. For no trace of the fair city remained and but few of its inhabitants now dwelled on Middle-earth.

Upon his death he roamed the Halls of Mandos, a place of darkness, solitude and grief. There he faced centuries of atonement for his pride and arrogance, with no company but his own. In the Second Age, the re- embodied lord was thrust full kilt into the War of the Last Alliance. A dark time for all, for many Elves and Men fell to the minions of the Dark Lord. Glorfindel was again a witness to death and destruction and the loss of close friends. And through all his trials, he suffered alone. For never had he found his mate, the one to whom his soul called, never, in all the ages of his long existence.

And now that Haldir had come to know Lindir and Lindir's heart, he feared for the young elf, for Lindir would give his heart to the golden warrior and Glorfindel would surely break it. One of the most respected and powerful elves on Middle Earth, a legend in his own time, an elf of golden deeds, ethereal beauty and great wisdom, but one who tragically believed with all his heart and soul that he would remain forever alone.

Glorfindel had been through too much, been hurt too many times and so had built a hard shell around his heart. And Haldir did not think that Lindir had the strength to put a dent in that shell. Many had tried before him and failed.

But Lindir deserved the chance and Haldir was determined to help him in any way he could, if only to pick up the pieces when it was all over, if it ever began.

"Are you planning to change clothes before Glorfindel arrives?" Haldir asked during a lull in the conversation. You are quite tempting in your disarray, but you would look better with your hair combed and in more appropriate attire. If you show me where you keep your comb, I will help you with your hair. It is something I do for my brothers all the time and if you do not mind my saying so, I am quite skilled."

Lindir looked down at his robe and laughed. "I had not even thought about my appearance. My comb is atop the dresser. You will find a box of clips in the left drawer. But you do not have to do this, Haldir. Sit and relax, I will attend to my toiletries."

"No, Lindir. You sit. It is no trouble for me and is a task that I enjoy."

Lindir watched the Marchwarden as he gathered together what he would need. There was much to like about the arrogant elf. He smiled to himself. I never would have thought the day would come when I would call Haldir o Lórien my friend. At least some good had come out of Elladan and Elrohir's plotting.

Haldir walked over to the large wardrobe that stood on the wall across from Lindir's bed. "Do you mind if I choose your raiment for tonight?" he asked, not wanting to open the door without permission. He thought he could do a better job of making Lindir look his best than the young elf, considering the way the minstrel was feeling.

"Feel free to do so, Haldir, since you are up," Lindir said playfully, for a moment his mind empty of thoughts of his injured friend. He was also curious as to what the older elf would choose. He laughed when he saw what Haldir pulled from the wardrobe. The ingenious elf had selected one of his best tunics. It was a deep, aquamarine, silk brocade embroidered with gold thread at the neck and on the sleeves. Haldir matched it with a pair of soft, white suede leggings and tan boots.

"The tunic will go well with your eyes, pen-neth (2). You should wear it more often, as it is a good colour for you." Haldir said. "Change your clothes while I run to my room. I will not be long."

When Haldir returned, Lindir was fully dressed. The older elf sat down on the bed and motioned for Lindir to sit in front of him then picked up the comb and began to remove the simple ribbon that bound the minstrel's hair.

Lindir relaxed under Haldir's touch, enjoying the sensation of slender fingers moving through his hair. Haldir undid Lindir's long braid, letting the soft strands fall to mingle with the rest of the hair that hung down Lindir's back. When Haldir had worked it all free, he ran the comb through the long white tresses, gently removing the rest of the tangles. Lindir leaned backward as Haldir parted the silky locks and began to plait a section in the back. When he had finished with the braid, Haldir reached in his pocket and withdrew a lovely mithril hair clip with a dark, clear, blue stone.

Lindir gasped when he saw it. "Haldir, it is beautiful, and much too fine for me to wear."

"Nonsense, Lindir. It matches your tunic and makes a lovely contrast with your hair." You need colour to set off your braid. I am going to leave your hair loose in the front, for it brings out your eyes. Ah, you are beautiful, mellonen (4). Glorfindel will not know what to make of you."

At Haldir's words, the young elf turned a deep red. Surely the Marchwarden did not know of his feelings for Glorfindel.

"Aye, Lindir," Haldir said gently. "You gave yourself away yesterday. I know of your love for Glorfindel and I wish you the best. You will have no better opportunity than tonight to tell him, and I advise you to do so. Glorfindel will never know your thoughts if you keep them hidden."

"Haldir!" Lindir said in astonishment. "How could you even suggest that I do such, to think of love, when Tebring lies in the healing house his life in ruin. This is a time of tragedy, sorrow. The only reason Glorfindel sits with me tonight is to ease my mind. I could never take advantage of his compassion in such a way."

"There are other ways to show your love besides words." Haldir stated. "Glorfindel is not without feeling, nor any less deserving of the compassion he offers you. He grieves also, pen-neth (2), can you not see? It was his command that sent Tebring to his doom. At least that is how he will see it."

"Are you speaking from experience, Haldir?" Lindir gazed at the Marchwarden sadly. "Do you harbour the same guilt when those under you are injured or die?"

"Oh, I try to rationalize it, Lindir. I tell myself the galadhrim know what they are getting into, all the usual arguments, and it works to some extent. But, deep inside, any leader--be it me, Glorfindel, Lords Elrond or Celeborn--takes the blame and yes, feels the guilt. I carry it with me always. But I cannot and will not let it consume me."

"And who offers you comfort, Haldir?" Lindir asked.

For a brief moment the guarded look Haldir normally turned to the world was replaced with one of pain. It was so fleeting that Lindir almost missed it. So, Haldir had his secrets, too.

"Ah, you ask quite a personal question, meldir (5)," the warrior replied, a tinge of amusement in his voice. "That is something I will not tell you."

"Geheno lin, Haldir (6). I did not mean to pry." Lindir said an apologetic look on his lovely face.

"Avosto (7), it is a small matter, you need not apologize. Come, let us change the topic of our conversation." Haldir smiled at Lindir then stretched out his legs on the bed to a more comfortable position.

No sooner had he done so than a soft knock sounded at the door. It was pushed gently open and a servant walked in carrying a large tray filled with food. Directly behind the maid was the ancient warrior himself.

"Mae govannen (8), Haldir, Lindir," Glorfindel said. "I am sorry to be so long in returning. Haldir, my apologies, as I am afraid I have barely left you time to dress for dinner. I appreciate your staying with Lindir and also, all the other help you have given today."

"You are welcome. It was my pleasure, Glorfindel," Haldir replied. I am sorry to leave your company, Lindir, but I do wish to refresh myself before the evening meal. Posto mae, maer dú. (9)"

"Maer dú (10), Haldir." Lindir replied with a smile as Haldir turned and took his leave.

1\. pen-neth - young one  
2\. Apanonar - The Afterborn  
3\. Mellonen - My friend  
4\. meldir - friend  
5\. Geheno lin, Haldir - Forgive me, Haldir  
6\. Avosto - Don't worry  
7\. Mae govannen - Well met  
8\. Posto mae, maer dú - Rest well, good night  
9\. Maer dú - Good night


	12. The Dark Side of the Moon

Glorfindel's mind was reeling after his conversation with Haldir. One moment they had been discussing Lindir and the next he was baring the very depths of his soul to the Marchwarden. What was it about the silver-haired elf that made him want to reveal his innermost secrets? Haldir could be cold, glacial. But when he let down his guard, Haldir was a totally different elf. Warm, caring, generous, aye, even loving, he was such an amalgam of personality. Glorfindel sighed, thinking of pudgy cheeks and warm hazel eyes. He knew he could not ask for a truer friend than Haldir.

Walking down the corridor, he mentally ran over his checklist. He had spoken with his second- in-command and been ensured that the security of Imladris was intact for one more night. He had checked in with Lord Elrond and Master Healer Anaran concerning Tebring's progress and had arranged with the kitchen for a dinner tray to be taken to Lindir's room. He had visited with the other three elves injured in the attack. He had checked on Garion and Tambor and finally, had given a copy of the revised duty schedule to Erestor. And now, he was trying to prepare himself for what he was sure would be another emotional confrontation. For if Haldir was correct about Lindir's feelings, Glorfindel knew he must speak candidly with the minstrel, and he was already emotionally drained from his conversation with the Marchwarden. But this was a matter he was not able to put off. He owed it to Lindir. He owed it to himself.

He arrived at Lindir's door just as one of the house staff was entering with a large serving tray. A quick glance showed that Haldir had worked his magic again as the Marchwarden and Lindir were relaxed on the bed in what seemed to be pleasant conversation. After giving his greetings and seeing Haldir to the door, Glorfindel dismissed the servant and walked over to the table to see what the kitchen had prepared.

He lifted the cover off one of the dishes on the tray. On a bed of greens, lay six roasted quail covered in a thin brown sauce and garnished with wild berries. The cooks had apparently done their best tonight. "Come, Lindir, I suggest we eat while the food is still warm."

Glorfindel watched as Lindir walked over to take his seat at the table. Something about the elf seemed different, but Glorfindel could not put his finger upon it. "Pour us each a glass of wine, Lindir, while I serve our plates. There is soup if you would care for that first?"

"Soup will be fine," Lindir replied, "but it is I who should be serving you, my lord." Glorfindel looked at the minstrel with amusement. "Just Glorfindel, Lindir, and as tonight I am here for you, I will do the honours." Lindir smiled. "Soup will be fine, then...Glorfindel."

The Elda laughed, and it seemed to break the tension, for Glorfindel could see Lindir's shoulders visibly relax. The warrior, now servitor, placed a bowl of clear soup in front of the minstrel and another one at his own place setting, then sat down to enjoy the repast.

There was silence for a few moments while the two settled themselves and tasted the first of the flavourful broth. Then Glorfindel broke the spell. "I wish I could give you better tidings of Tebring, Lindir," he said, watching the younger elf's face to see how he would react now that the painful subject was again broached. "Lord Elrond and Master Anaran will watch over him tonight, but they do not expect any complications. Unfortunately, the force of the blow shattered the bone and the damage to tendons, ligaments and veins was so severe, there was nothing left to save. Elrond told me it was a matter of lose the leg or lose Tebring's life, Lindir. I am sorry."

Glorfindel paused again to check Lindir's reaction before continuing. "I too, am fond of Tebring, and it saddens me that he must suffer so. He fought well. It took five of the men to bring him down. Garion tried to help. He just could not make it to Tebring's side in time to block the blow. If our reinforcements had not arrived when they did, the whole unit would have been lost. As it was, there were three others, Ryldor, Fyril, and Galelas who were also injured, albeit not as serious. I was able to talk with each of them tonight, and they will be fine with a few days of healing rest."

Expecting tears, Glorfindel was surprised to see Lindir's face twist in anger. "Scum of Arda are the descendants of Isildur, I curse his and their weakness. Did they not quest so for power and might, Tebring would be whole and hale and not facing an eternity of sorrow. In all our history, what harm have we sought them? Was it not our kin who died alongside Men at Barad-dûr? Do they forget so quickly? The ring may have been the bane of Isildur, but Men are the bane of the Firstborn. Lord Elrond should close the gates of Imladris to their kind!"

"Do you truly mean to condemn a whole race because of the actions of a few?" Glorfindel replied. "Surely, as one who heralds the history of the past, Lindir, you should realize the folly of your thoughts. I know you feel sorrow for Tebring, but you know as well as I the reason we fight, to bring peace to this land. Peace cannot be attained through hatred. Reserve your wrath for the demons of the dark, the ones who truly have no goodness inside. Even Isildur strove for the light, until darkness overwhelmed him. He was a great leader of Men before he succumbed to the power of The Ring. The bandits are the worst of their kind. Think of Beren, Tuor, do you condemn them? And our Lord Elrond, Masters Elladan and Elrohir, the blood of Men runs also in their veins."

"Forgive my outburst, my lord," Lindir replied somewhat curtly. "I apologize, if my words cause you pain, but I am entitled to my opinion. Aye, Tuor and Beren were the exception and I fault them not, neither my Lord Elrond nor his sons. For though their blood is tainted with that of Men, it is still in majority Elven, but for the rest of the race of Men, I have no love."

"You are right, Lindir, those are your views and I cannot deny you expressing them. Although, it does distress me to hear you speak of Lord Elrond and his sons as tainted. Where would you be if Elrond had not taken you in out of the goodness of his heart? Do you not feel you owe some allegiance to his name? I would hope your views stay within this room, and you do not express them so strongly in public. There are gossip mongers enough as it is."

"What has come over Lindir?" the Vanya wondered. His shy, gentle guardian was showing a side that Glorfindel had not seen since the day the white-haired elfling marched into Lord Elrond's office and demanded he be able to test his swordsmanship. Lindir's thoughts bordered on the verge of madness, revenge was one matter, but harbouring hate could only lead to trouble. Glorfindel would have to find a way to temper Lindir's feelings.

Lindir, on the other hand was torn. He was not ashamed of his words. Humans were behind the cause of all his misery and he felt a deep hatred inside whenever he thought of them. It had been dredged up again since the skirmish and Tebring's injury, and he could no more have controlled his outburst than he could keep the sun from rising each morn. But he had upset Glorfindel, and that did not bode well for the plans he had tonight. For as Haldir had advised, he needed to tell the seneschal of the feelings he held in his heart. He needed to declare his love for the golden Lord. To have Glorfindel alone for a whole night was the opportunity of a lifetime. He had to get a grip on his feelings and bury his murderous thoughts. But once out, they were hard to push down. Men! He thought back to the one day he would never in a lifetime forget.

\- In the Forest Miles Outside of Rivendell

They had broken camp early that morning, and his Adar (1) had told him they would be visiting a village soon to replenish supplies. Lindir was beside himself with excitement. With the type of life they led, on the road most of the time, excursions into permanent settlements were few and far between. It was not that he did not appreciate his life, it is just there was so much to see in the towns. Things his family had no use for, exotic and enticing, new sights, new smells.

They rode in silence for the most part, for the music of the woods was such that even the lyrical speech of the elves would have spoiled the moment. Birds sang as they basked in the sunshine that entered through the canopy of the tall trees. Squirrels and chipmunks chattered and scampered through the branches, bearing nuts in their bulging cheeks to feed their young. Dozens of different types of insects sang mating songs or piped a warning at the travellers who moved slowly along the Great Road. It was spring and the forest was in bloom. Delicate green leaves bright against dark trunks, colourful spring blooms of myriad wildflowers, merry brooks swollen from mountain drain-off, all sang of new growth and a new season.

Lindir had seen many such sights from his perch atop his adar's horse, for it would be some years yet before he would be allowed to ride his own. But he did not mind. It was comfortable atop the great roan and his father's arms kept him safe and warm. The plod of the beast's sure- footed hooves against the leafy path was as a lullaby to his ears, lulling him to sleep, though he fought against it, determined not to miss a thing on this day of all days. For it was his begetting day, and though theirs was a simple life, his parents would make sure today was special. This was most likely the reason for the stop in the town.

His naneth (2) rode along side of Lindir on her favourite white mare, laughing at her little elfling who tried so hard to stay alert. The family had travelled long the day before and had made camp late last night. So Lindir had less sleep than normal. A nap would be good for him and though he fought it, she knew he would soon succumb. Sure enough, not a few moments passed, before his body slumped back against his father's broad chest. Lindir was deep in reverie, dreaming the sweet dreams of youth.

Lindir had not slept long, when he felt his adar tense and heard his naneth gasp. A bearded man with reddish curly hair jumped down from a tree right in front of his father's horse. As Lindir's awareness returned, he heard the man boldly ask, "What business have you in these woods?"

"Mae Govannen (3), stranger," Lindir's father spoke. "I was not aware it was a crime to travel through these woods. The last I heard this was still a public road. But our business is no secret. We are wanderers, travelling minstrels. We go to the next town to replenish our supplies. We mean no harm, and do not intend to tarry long in this location."

"It is rare for your kind to pass this way," the man replied. "My friends and I find you fair of face, and wish to know more about your race." As he spoke these words, more men pushed through the trees till their party was completely surrounded by approximately twenty armed warriors, though their armour bore no familiar markings.

Lindir felt his adar's hand move to the hilt of his sword, and he shivered. "Ada, (4) who...?" he began to ask, but his father shushed him in a stern voice, and clasped his arm tighter around Lindir's waist.

"Your packs are full, my friends." The man replied. "I am sure what small amount of supplies you need, we could provide. Perhaps you would care to barter with us. We would ask naught but a little, you would not even have to part with your coin. A few moments with your fair lady, would grant you a water skin and a sack of flour." The man laughed at his joke, revealing a set of brown, stained teeth that looked as if they had never been cleaned. Several of the other men laughed and made rude gestures. Lindir felt fear radiate from his adar's body, though his father still sat straight and tall and answered the man with a voice that did not tremble.

"Touch her and you die. I may not be able to take all of you, but I can guarantee many of you will not see the setting sun. Let us go peacefully. If it is coin you wish, we will give you what we have. There is no need for any of us to harm the other."

"There is wisdom in your words, elf," the man spat, "but I see only one warrior against twenty. Surely, we may have what we wish and your coin as well. We have been in these woods for a long time and are in need of manly comfort." He looked at his men and they leered at the tall minstrel, and not a few rude remarks were spoken under their breaths. The red-haired man cocked his head and reached up to finger the minstrel's blond hair. The elf stiffened, and pulled away, but stayed silent. The man did not turn loose of the elf's locks as he spoke once more. "Perhaps we will take of your self, for it would not be too hard to imagine a woman underneath that long, silky hair."

The next moments were ones of chaos, as the man made a movement with one arm, and grasped the minstrel by the back of the neck with the other. The warriors surged forward. Lindir's naneth was pulled from her horse at the same time others grabbed for him and his adar. He found himself clasped in the strong arms of a man and could only watch helplessly as his father managed to free himself long enough to draw his sword and enter into battle against at least ten of the evil warriors. He could not see his naneth, but heard her screams of terror. His adar heard them also, and the desperate look on his face as he fought for his life, tore at Lindir's heart. The elf killed at least six of the mortal warriors, but was tiring fast.

A scream left Lindir's throat as a blow to the arm loosened his father's grip on his weapon, sending it clattering to the ground. The screams did not stop as the red-haired leader of the men plunged the tip of his sword straight into his heart, spilling his life blood. Lindir could only watch as his adar fell to the ground and lay still.

But the worst was to come. Lindir's naneth still lived. She was dragged forth and shown the lifeless body of her mate. Lindir struggled to free himself from the fetid man who held him, but the man's grip was too strong. At least ten men took his naneth as she lay next to her fallen mate, took her until she too lay broken and bleeding on the forest floor, all light gone from her eyes. And Lindir was forced to watch. His cries of "Adar, Naneth," went unheard. His prayers to the Valar were not answered. When all was still, he was brought forth before the leader of the men, who would be the one to decide his fate.

"Give him a shovel", the man said cruelly. "Let him dig his parents' grave." The men made bets as to how long it would take him. Skins of wine were passed around, and the more the men drank the more evil they became. When three of the men mentioned that the young elf was sweating heavily and they might lose their bet, Lindir was stopped from his task, his clothes pulled from his body and water poured over him. Dirty fingers touched him all over, fondling even his most private parts, before he was pushed back to finish his grisly duty. But he persevered, if only that his life might last a little longer, or the unknown fate to which he would be subjected put off for a while.

After what seemed like days, Lindir managed to dig a long trench deep enough to hold the lifeless bodies of his parents. He was allowed to kiss each one, before four of the men callously dragged his naneth and his adar to the trench and threw them carelessly into the freshly dug hole. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Lindir was forced to shovel dirt over their limp bodies. It was to be his last glimpse of the two elves most dear to his heart.

When the last shovel full of earth had been cast, the red-haired warrior moved forward and grabbed a handful of Lindir's hair near the back of his neck.

"If you care for them so much, you can be their guardian." He said with a sneer.

He pulled Lindir down onto his back and drew a dagger from the waistband of his trousers. The young elf cringed, knowing this breath would most likely be his last, but in a motion quicker than that of a striking snake, the man grabbed Lindir's feet and cut a deep slash in both, knowing it would limit his movement. Whimpering in shock and pain, Lindir watched as dark red blood began to immediately well from the cuts, sinking into the freshly dug earth of his parent's grave.

"Take their horses, we leave immediately." The red-haired warrior yelled to his men. Looking at the elfling still lying in pain on the ground, he emitted a rude curse, and murmured to four of the grinning warriors at his side. "Young and tender as he is, he will not last long without food or water. I would take him with us, for his body could be put to use, but we have not the time, and he would only slow us down." Moving over to his horse, he mounted quickly, raised his sword into the air and shouted so that all could hear. "Mount up, men, we ride forth, now." And with that, the men cantered off through the woods, leaving Lindir naked on the ground, with nothing left but a grieving heart.

How long he lay face down atop the fresh earthy mound, crying until no more tears would come, he knew not. It could have been hours, it could have been days. The sun was low in the sky when he realized he was dying of thirst. He had to find water or he knew he would perish. Rising painfully to his feet, he began limping back towards the road. His only hope lay in finding a small creek or water hole. And there is where his recollection stopped. Half crazed with pain and grief, the young elf's mind went blank; only instinct drove him forward. How he managed to reach the outskirts of the borders of Imladris, only the Valar knew. But it was there he was found, lying semi-conscious at the base of a tree, emaciated from lack of food and dehydrated from lack of water.

All Lindir remembered of his rescue was a pair of kind blue eyes and a gentle voice murmuring soft words of comfort, as strong arms lifted him onto the back of a horse and cradled him to his chest. His last vision before he completely lost consciousness was of golden hair shining in the sun. He learned later the name of his benefactor. The second-in-command of Imladris had been checking the borders that day. It was Lord Glorfindel who had found the waif, and brought him back to what would become his new home.

He had never told his story, the details of how his parents died. He wished no one to know of their shame, nor his. So when asked, he said only that his parents had been killed. That he had been away from the camp and returned to find their bodies. Most assumed he meant Orcs, and he did not tell them different. But it had not been Orcs but Men, and he would never forgive them for what they did. And he would never forget.

Lindir came back to the present with a start. Glorfindel was looking at him as if expecting a response and it took the younger elf a moment to remember the last words that the warrior had spoken.

"I apologize, Glorfindel, for my heated words. I have other reasons to dislike the race, but what I said about Lord Elrond and his sons was unfair. I do hold them in great esteem, and owe Lord Elrond such debt that I will never be able to repay it. He has treated me more than fair and in my anger, I said words that I now regret. Please forgive my rudeness. You are here at my request and I have treated you abominably."

Lindir was nothing but honest. He truly did regret his words, and hoped the Vanya would accept his apology. He knew that Glorfindel was a compassionate elf and wished with all his heart that he could feel the same. But men had violently hurt and taken away those he loved, and he could not see his way to feel differently about them.

"Your apology is accepted Lindir. I have no wish to fight with you. We all speak words in anger that we regret. Here, let me clear away your soup bowl and I will serve the entree. Refill our wineglasses, and let us find a topic more pleasing to talk about while we enjoy the rest of our meal." Glorfindel rose from his chair and removed the bowls, putting them back on the tray. In addition to the quail, there were steamed vegetables that had come from the gardens of Imladris and roasted tubers dripping with fresh butter. He served them each a plate and sat back down. Lifting his wineglass and taking a few sips, he leaned back and took a closer look at his companion.

Lindir was wearing a beautiful blue tunic that seemed to turn his eyes the colour of the deep waters of the ocean. They were startlingly dark in comparison to his pale face and Glorfindel of a sudden was drawn to them like a magnet. Lindir was beautiful. His face tonight was somehow softer, yet more masculine. It took him a while to figure out the change, but he finally realized that Lindir was not wearing his traditional warrior's braids. His long white hair was pulled forward on his face, covering the pointed ears, and accentuating his high cheekbones. The paleness of his hair and face drew out the blue of his eyes and the rosy pink of his cheeks and lips. He reminded the seneschal of one of the marble statues that Elrond had commissioned and which graced the lovely gardens of the Elven city.

And this elf felt love for him. Ah, but he was tempting. Glorfindel felt a longing to taste of the pink lips and caress the soft skin, but he knew it could not be. Lindir wanted more than just a night of pleasure, and that the ancient warrior could not give him. It was a shame, for Lindir was truly a prize worth having. He hoped that one day, the minstrel would fall for someone who would make him happy, and value him for the jewel that he was.

"So, Lindir, how are you doing in your musical studies?" Glorfindel asked, trying to change the nature of his thoughts. "Lord Findal considers you one of his prized pupils. I daresay Haldir is impressed. Did you realize that he also plays the harp? Not many are aware of his skill, but it is one of his passions. Of course, he does not have talent as fine as yours, but he has written a few pieces of his own. You may wish to ask him to play for you one day."

"That does surprise me," Lindir replied. "I know he has a fine voice for we sang together, but I did not know that he played. I would truly like to hear him. Perhaps I will bring it up before he leaves Imladris. He has many talents of which I was not aware, it seems."

"You would be surprised, mellonen," (5) Glorfindel chuckled. "Haldir amazes me and I have known him for millennia! Most people do misjudge him. I will not say he is all bark and no bite, for when riled, he has a ferocious temper, just ask his brothers. But he is a good elf. Lothlórien is proud of him."

During the lulls and bouts of conversation, both elves had finished the main course and Glorfindel had cleared the table and served dessert. The empty dessert plates still sat in front of them as they enjoyed a glass of a light sweet wine. A comfortable silence had grown between the two, and was finally broken when the Elda stretched and leaned forward to remove the last of the dishes from the table. "If you are finished, Lindir, I will put all this aside." At a nod from the minstrel, Glorfindel removed the last remnants of the meal and set the serving tray aside. Then he stood and stretched again.

"I suggest we move to more comfortable seating," the Elda suggested. The night is cool, perhaps you would like to sit on the balcony for a while, look at the stars? Or perhaps, you would care to walk with me in the garden?"

"I think I would prefer the walk," Lindir said with a smile. "It is so beautiful tonight, and I feel at peace underneath the stars. Give me a moment to get my cloak and I will join you."

"What better chance have I to tell the seneschal of my love," Lindir thought, "and what better place than underneath the star-kissed sky. It is now or never. And no matter what his response, after this night my life will change forever."

Saying a prayer to the Valar to grant his wish of all wishes, Lindir followed his love out of the room and down the hall, wondering what the rest of the night would hold.

1\. adar - father  
2\. naneth - mother  
3\. Ada - endearment for Father - Dad, Daddy  
4\. Mae govannen - Well met  
5\. mellonen - my friend


	13. Under the Stars

The air had a sweet scent after the heavy rain. Droplets of water clung to the leaves of the flowers and trees refracting Ithil's light into hundreds of precious gems. Two elves walked the paths of the gardens under the moonlight, one with hair like the moon itself, the other with that of the sun. No words were spoken as each took comfort in the other and in the silent stars that shone above them, Varda's gift to the Firstborn.

"Come with me, Lindir." Glorfindel broke the silence, taking Lindir's hand into his own. He left the garden walkway and led his friend across the rain wet lawn to the line of trees that guarded the Last Homely House. Disregarding the main path through the wood, the Elda followed a faint trail that was just discernable to Elven eyes. Rainwater from branches that they brushed along the way fell as a fountain spray of adamant (1) upon their hair and clothes.

The barely visible path wound through bracken and scrub but the two elves stepped through it effortlessly as was the way of their kind. Soon the canopy overhead grew dense, blocking Ithil's rays until the darkness cloaked them in shrouds of black velvet. Glorfindel had not spoken another word since asking Lindir to follow and the forest too lay silent and still. Deeper they travelled onward into the heart of the wood, where ancient oak, beech and ash dug thick roots into the ground, guarding secrets of old.

The aged trees seemed to sigh with their passing as if they knew what lingered in the elves' hearts, their voice whispering songs of ages past. Here the air was heavy with moisture, forming a grey mist that sinuously caressed and wound its way around the darkened trunks, cloaking the silent figures from the outside world. There was power here; one could feel it in the ground, in the air, in the thick limbs and boughs that reached toward the sky. It was here before the time of the Elves; sowed perhaps by Yavanna when the world was new. Glorfindel stopped in front of a gnarled tree of indeterminate age. Reaching out he placed both palms upon the trunk of the ancient oak and beckoned for Lindir to do the same. The tree pulsed with life under their fingertips sending vibrations through their arms and into their bodies. A low hum emanated from the tree and seemed to thrum with the beat of their hearts. They became one with the forest, living the song of the trees.

Moments passed and still they stood, lost in another time, one with nature. As gradually as it had begun, the vibration stopped and the hum quieted. They were left with a feeling of peace and serenity. Then Glorfindel once again took Lindir by the hand. "Come," he said simply. They moved further into the woods, away from the ancient heart in a slightly westward direction, still following the faint path. Lindir opened his mouth to speak but Glorfindel placed a finger upon his lips and shook his head. They walked a little ways farther and suddenly the trees gave way to a circular clearing. The stars shone brightly overhead and in the center Ithil's rays lit a silver circle on the wet grass. Delicate white and yellow blossoms littered the ground, their heads just peeping above the plush green lawn. A shrine, it seemed in the middle of the wilderness.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Glorfindel whispered. "I come here often. It is a sacred place. As far as I know, only Lord Elrond and I know of its existence."

Glorfindel led Lindir to the center of the clearing until they were both standing in the spot where Ithil's rays shone down upon their heads. Lifting his arms and face up to the stars, Glorfindel began to sing. The song was Quenyan, one sung in ages past, a tribute to Varda Elentári, the Lady of the Stars.

Lindir watched spellbound as a soft golden glow began to surround the Vanya. He could feel great power emanate from the ancient elf's body. Glorfindel appeared to call to the heavens and indeed it seemed the stars answered, for they began to take on a brighter glow. The deep, clear voice of the golden warrior was beautiful and as the song continued to flow from his lips, Lindir could only sigh in rapture. Other voices joined with Glorfindel's as if the very stars themselves were singing. The sound was as none Lindir had ever heard before, like a heavenly chorus, for the voices were singing with great joy and happiness. Such wondrous sound that it brought tears to Lindir's eyes and made him want to cry out in ecstasy and bliss. Another lovely voice joined the singers, harmonizing sweetly with the bass tones of Glorfindel. With surprise, Lindir realized it was his own, as he too had raised his arms and was singing with the stars.

The song ended, the last notes dying softly as the voices stilled to just a whisper then were gone. Glorfindel lowered his arms and turned to the elf at his side. Cupping Lindir's face in his slender hands, he looked into his friend's eyes, sky-blue to ocean. "Did you hear the voices? Did you hear the song of the stars?" He gazed hopefully at his friend, who could only nod his head in affirmation. "Yes, I heard them," Lindir whispered, his voice raw with emotion, "How...?

"Shush, do not speak," the Elda whispered, "lend me your cloak." Lindir undid the clasp of his grey cloak and handed the garment to his friend. Glorfindel spread it out upon the grass then lay upon it, his back to the earth. He motioned for Lindir to lie beside him. "Watch," the Elda said softly, "watch the stars."

They lay in the grass in the clearing, Ithil's light bathing them in a soft white glow. They watched, and as they did the light of the stars grew even brighter, until the whole sky was lit as if billions of candles illuminated the heavens. As if the moon forgot its routine in the sky and rose to couple with the sun, for it was almost as bright as day. Then without warning all the lights in heaven went out. The stars, the moon, all were gone. Only darkness remained. A void so deep and terrifying to Lindir it was as if someone had extinguished his very soul and he was afraid. Every doubt Lindir had ever felt, every bad thought, fear, prejudice, all evil that was within Lindir came to the surface and threatened to overwhelm.

What lasted but a moment seemed an eternity but with the same suddenness it was over. Ithil shone brightly and the friendly light of the stars once again peopled the sky. Lindir opened his mouth to speak but again, Glorfindel stopped him. "Watch," he said, and once more Lindir obeyed.

In the midst of the star field one bright star began to move. Soon others followed in a swirling dance across the midnight sky. As they left their place in the heavens, the stars seemed to move toward the two lying in the grass. And, in the center of the star spiral a face appeared; that of a woman fair with shining eyes and long, golden hair. The stars became a crown upon her head and she glimmered and twinkled as if she was a star herself. A slim white foot settled on the ground before them and the lady materialized in whole, her laughter ringing like tiny bells on the wind.

"Glorfindel, Lindir, Firstborn of Ilúvatar, you who sing with the stars, I hear your call and I answer."

Robes of white touched with stars and edged with gold cloaked her slender and graceful form, the long, billowing sleeves of her dress moving as if in a gentle breeze. She reached out a white hand and fingered a strand of Lindir's hair.

"Child of Ithil, you have seen much sorrow in your life. Stray not towards the dark but embrace the light. You hold a precious gift for the Music of the Ainur resides in your heart. Let it spring forth so that others may share in its beauty. For it is in the music that you will find your heart's desire."

The Lady smiled at the young elf who gazed at her with such awe.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Lindir whispered.

"That is who I am." the Lady replied, "Did you believe I had forsaken you? I am with you, always. Listen to my words. To know joy you must experience sorrow; to gain strength you must first show weakness. The answers lie within you, Lindir. What you seek you must first find inside."

Varda knelt and placed a gentle kiss on Lindir's forehead and where her lips had touched for a moment, a star appeared.

As Lindir's white locks slid through her fingers, Varda moved her hand to grasp those that were golden.

"Glorfindel of Gondolin, old friend, child of Anor. You ask for guidance but you do not heed my words. They do not always come from my lips but sometimes from the mouths of others. Open the doors that you have closed. Let in the music and the light. Listen to the one who sees inside your soul, for he is guardian of more than the Golden Woods."

With a smile and a silvery laugh, she was gone, the shining stars weaving their way back to the heavens where they once more took up their nightly position, smiling down upon the two lonely elves who bathed in Ithil's spotlight.

Glorfindel's eyes were like a mirror, reflecting the light of the silvery stars. He turned them on his friend as he felt Lindir's hand upon his arm.

"Why?" Lindir whispered, "Why bring me here? I am nothing to you and yet you share with me an event so wondrous that it has left me almost beyond words. The Lady of the Stars.... she spoke to me.... bestowed a kiss upon my brow. I can still feel her sweet lips."

Tears of joy traced a path down Lindir's cheeks. For he had spoken with the Lady that all Elves revere, one of the Valar, Kindler of the stars. His eyes shone with the wonder of her visit.

"You belittle yourself, Lindir." Glorfindel replied. "Since first I found you lost on the border, I have cared for you. I know not what The Lady told you for she speaks to each of us in her own way. But, tonight, she opened my eyes to that which I should have seen long ago."

"As to why I brought you here?" Glorfindel took a deep breath. "Many reasons, Lindir. All elves experience sorrow. We see the things we know die away but in balance, we also see new growth, new life. I have always felt that I saw more than my share of death and destruction and I let my grief run deep, holding it inside until it became an integral part of me. I sensed the same in you when first I met you and over time it seemed to grow worse. But I was so caught up in my own self-pity that I could not feel for any but myself."

"Haldir opened the door for me. We are much alike, we two. Always, he has been willing to share a shoulder for my sorrow. A step at a time, he broke the locks on the door wherein dwelt my despair and pain. This day, he set me free but I knew it not.

"After our argument tonight, I felt you had lost your way. Peace is our only salvation and I believe in that strongly. Men have faults but they also are Children of Ilúvatar. I thought if you experienced the music of the heavens that it would help you understand the place Men hold in this world. One day the Firstborn will leave Middle-earth but Men will remain. This world will be theirs to govern until the end of time when we all meet again and Eru decides our fate.

"I wished also to ease your hurt. For I knew that tonight, I would be the cause of your sorrow. Haldir, dear Haldir, I love him as I would a brother. Haldir spoke with me of that which was disturbing, of what I felt I was not ready. Haldir told me your secret, Lindir. He told me of the love you have for me."

With Glorfindel's admission, Lindir knelt in front of the ancient warrior and placed a finger upon Glorfindel's lips.

"Speak no more, Glorfindel. Let me tell you of my feelings. I have loved you since I first set eyes upon you, since I was no more than an elfling. Deep in my heart, I knew you would never return my love but I could not change the way I felt inside. You speak of faults but you are perfection to me. You are beautiful, my love, not just on the outside though you rival Anor itself, but on the inside as well. It is not only I who feels this way about you, for you are beloved by many of Middle-earth, all speak well of you.

"These years past, my love for you has grown until I felt my heart would burst. Yet, never could I speak to you of my love. So scared was I of your rejection that I forced myself to be content with loving you from afar. I also met with Haldir. He convinced me to tell you that which I never dared before. So, I am telling you now, Glorfindel, melin chen." (2)

The Elda tried to speak but Lindir shook his head. "This is hard for me. Even now, I tremble in fear speaking these words. Let me have my say before you tell me what I am sure must break my heart.

"From what you have spoken so far, Glorfindel, I know that you do not have the same feelings towards me. In my heart, I have always known it was so, though I hoped against all hope that I had a small chance. Now, that is taken from me. Yet, if you could in your kindness grant me one request, I would treasure it forever." At this Lindir's voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes, which had been downcast, turned pleadingly to his companion. "Love me tonight, Glorfindel, just this once, just this night."

Glorfindel looked at his friend with sadness in his eyes. He raised his hand and gently caressed a lock of moon-kissed hair.

"Lindir, I brought you here tonight to tell you that my heart is closed. I have never been in love, never found the one who was meant for me. It has been that way for both of my lives. I let those that I have lost steal a piece of my heart until I believed I had nothing left to offer.

"When first I found you; a dirty, half-starved, frightened elfling, held you in my arms, the heart I believed was dead, warmed. Yet, any cold heart would have been moved by such a child.

"As you grew, I took an interest in your welfare. As your rescuer, I believed I had that right. Before I knew it, you had cast a spell upon me. Every time I looked at you I felt its draw. I kept you at a distance, unable to let you go from my heart completely, but unable to come to peace with how I felt.

"I have nightmares, Lindir. I see the faces of the friends I lost over my lifetime. They call to me, plead with me to save them. I could not bear it if your face entered my dreams. So I backed away from the feelings I had and I built a shell around what was left of my heart. Haldir understands, for he has similar dreams, of this we have spoken many times. But never did I tell him of what I felt for you.

"Tonight he begged me to open my heart and live. I, as I have always done in the past, ignored his words. And, when he spoke to me of the love you had for me, my only thoughts were to turn you away.

For when you came of age, those feelings that I believed were special affection for a child blossomed into something new. A spell so powerful it rocked me to the core. I was bewitched, caught up in a siren's song of passion and heat. You haunted my dreams, my waking moments and I was lost. All I ever brought to anyone was sorrow and grief and I did not wish to burden you with such hurt. Never having known love, I was wracked with guilt and shame over the lust I felt toward a child I thought of almost as a son. For I could not see past the urges of my body, my eyes were blinded to the truth of what lay inside my heart.

I spoke to Erestor and Elrond and told them I cared more for you than I should. And they warned me away for they too, were concerned for your welfare.

"But Varda showed me what a fool I have been. There is music in your heart, Lindir, and it has been calling me ever since I first saw you. It is the music of one fëa (3)calling to another. Not lust, Lindir, love. And tonight, my heart sings for the first time to yours."

"Melin chen, Lindir, gur-e-guren." (4) "I will have you tonight and every other, if you will let me."

The stars grew brighter and a silvery laugh accompanied by the jingle of tiny bells floated lightly on the air. Sky-blue eyes locked with those of ocean and pure love flowed between. Ithil and Anor joined together in a flash of golden light, shining over the two as they found love under the stars.

1\. adamant - a legendary, extremely hard stone, sometimes identified as diamond or lodestone.  
2\. Melin chen. - I love you.  
3\. Melin chen, Lindir. Gur-e-guren. - I love you, Lindir. Heart of my Heart.  
4\. fëa - soul (fëa and hröa - soul and body)  
Parts of this chapter were inspired by two stories: The Face of the Sun by Nildrohain and the Glorfindel/Haldir RPG Series at Rivendell-Reflections written by Leanan 2000, Ember Vixen & co.


	14. Love Under the Stars

"By the Valar, he is beautiful," the Elda thought, gazing down at the one to whom he had just confessed his love. Lindir's cheeks were flushed and his eyes, which had darkened with desire, were as velvet pools of deepest indigo. His pink lips were parted and the Elda could feel the minstrel's soft breath as it caressed his face. Silken strands of snow-white hair spread like a fan across the coarse grey folds of the woollen cloak on which they lay. Glorfindel released the ties on Lindir's tunic, exposing the minstrel's bare chest. He ran his fingers lightly over its warm surface. Lindir's skin was soft and supple, like the velvet petals of the roses in Celebrían's garden.

Glorfindel moved his hand so it lay directly over Lindir's heart, feeling its beat as it fluttered under his palm. "Gur-e-guren, meleth-e- guilen. Penen-vain. (1)," he whispered.

Kissing Lindir tenderly, Glorfindel whispered words of love into the minstrel's ear. "You are mine tonight, melethen (2), that is if you are willing. Let me know what your heart desires."

"I want you, pen-en vain, (3)" Lindir replied. I wish to be yours, to belong to you forever. Take me now, do to me as you will. Maethoren Valthen, seronen vell (4)."

Their union was like the first day of spring, when the dormant life hidden in the trees awakened and the grey nubs on the branches reluctantly released tiny green shoots, which slowly uncurled to bask in the warm, life-giving rays of the sun. When the stark, barren limbs of winter blossomed with colour, bringing hope to the heart as nature clothed itself in all its glory. When from death and decay, new life and beauty sprang forth.

Lindir melted the winter and brought new life to Glorfindel's heart. Like a moth to a flame, Glorfindel was drawn to the gentle elf and he knew that now he had claimed Lindir for his own, their lives would never be the same. Their love was new but somehow Glorfindel was aware that it would never die, for Lindir gave what was his unconditionally and he gave it all. His heart, his soul, his very essence, all poured out for the taking and Glorfindel drank of it like fine wine.

Never had he felt this content, not even in the bliss that was Valinor. Unable to resist, Glorfindel bent his head and pressed his lips to those of his now sleeping lover, tasting again the essence that was Lindir, feeling his heart sing with unrelenting joy. Sighing, he sat up and began to search for the clothing they had shed so wildly. As much as he wished to stay, Glorfindel knew it was time to leave. Lindir was on holiday but the warrior had to be up with the dawn to ride with the morning patrol.

Crawling inelegantly on all fours, drawing a merry laugh from his partner who had come awake with the gentle kiss, Glorfindel managed to gather together all the stray garments and sort them by owner. Lindir watched the Elda as he crawled through the wet grass gathering together their cast off apparel. The ancient warrior reminded him of the large yellow mountain cat that was often seen prowling the high mountain passes. Glorfindel's thighs rippled with muscle, mirroring the sleekness of the stealthy feline, the downy softness hiding the dangerous strength and power lying just beneath the surface. As the large cat silently stalked its victim, waiting for the perfect moment to time its deadly spring, so did Glorfindel pounce upon the hapless fabric that lay upon the wet grass. His likeness to the canny hunter belied only by the pink tongue that slipped from between his lips, giving his fierce countenance a comedic appearance. Lindir laughed at the analogy, causing the Elda to raise his eyebrows in question before shrugging his shoulders and giving Lindir a quick smile.

Glorfindel's easy and somewhat childish behaviour was what endeared him to many, but in truth it was only a part of his persona. As a commander, he ruled his forces with an iron, albeit, fair hand. He was a superb tactician and strategist, versed in the art of diplomacy and statesmanship, a lord in his own right, his rank dating back to his previous life on Middle-earth where he was head of the House of the Golden Flower in Gondolin.

The golden flower, the simple Celandine that bloomed so profusely around the fabled city, which on this night under Ithil's watch, raised its head above the grasses where they lay. The golden flower and the rayed sun splayed upon a field of blue, the symbol of a house fallen but not forgotten. For on that fateful day of the Hidden City's demise, not one of that noble house survived. Neither grave nor tombstone marked the passing of those fair and brave. And millennia later, their Lord reborn cried tears of remembrance; in a forest in Imladris, in a field of golden flowers.

Lindir knew automatically what drew his lover to this hidden arbour, for though Glorfindel spoke not much about the centuries before his death, Lindir could feel it was ever on his mind. The armour that the ancient warrior wore bore the crest of Imladris but it was second to the rayed sun and golden flower. His robes of state reflected not the reds and browns of Elrond's Elven sanctuary but the blue and gold of the House that fell, failing to protect the Elven city that now lay lost and shattered under the waters of the sea. Glorfindel grieved for a time that was lost as Lindir grieved for the lost time of his youth. But no longer would they face that grief alone. Two hearts and minds had melded this night. Forever after, they would face the world together, sharing all: sadness and sorrow, happiness and bliss. until the end of the world, until the end of time.

Gazing at each other with new eyes, the ancient warrior and the gentle minstrel dressed in companionable silence, each lost in his own thought, thoughts of the other. Grasping hands, they started the walk back to the Last Homely House, knowing that for tonight and most other nights to come, they would sleep in each other's embrace, in each other's arms. They smiled as the soft jingle of bells once more floated on the air and the stars above winked their approval at the two lovers. The trees, too, whispered their acceptance as they passed underneath their leafy boughs and sang to them the songs of lovers of old. Ithil's light shone brightly as the two crossed over the grassy sward and through the formal yard and garden where colourful flowers nodded their heads in sleep. Hand in hand, they crossed the threshold of the Last Homely House, walking down the silent corridors until at last they reached the door to Lindir's room and stepped inside.

The minstrel tossed his wet cloak into a basket set aside for such a purpose then removed the rest of his clothing while Glorfindel did the same. The Elda turned back the covers of the bed and smiled as Lindir walked to the other side. Both slid under the silky sheets and reached for the other, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Glorfindel laughed as he ran his fingers through Lindir's hair and removed a tiny yellow flower that had caught in a tangle. Lindir took it from his hand then left the bed and walked to a small bookcase near the door. Reaching for one of the thickest tomes, he opened it to the middle and pressed the golden Celandine blossom between the pages, a lasting keepsake of the love they first shared in a clearing under the stars. Crawling back beneath the covers, Lindir snuggled into Glorfindel's waiting arms.

"Melin chen, Maethoren Valthen (5)," he whispered softly, gazing into the sky-blue eyes of his lover.

"Melin chen, pen-neth (6), the ancient warrior returned, moving his body against the minstrel until they were spooned tightly together. "Posto mae, Lindir. Aniron idho. Aur telitha lagor. (7)"

"Maer dú, Glorfindel. Posto mae. (8)"

Ithil's light shone through the window on the two peaceful faces, both lost in the dreamscape of reverie.

1\. Gur-e-guren, meleth-e-guilen. Pen vain. - Heart of my heart, love of my life. My beautiful one.  
2\. melethen - my love  
3\. pen-en vain - my lovely one  
4\. Maethoren Valthen, seronen vell - my Golden Warrior, my beloved.  
5\. melin chen, Maethoren Valthen. - I love you, my Golden Warrior.  
6\. melin chen, pen-neth - I love you, young one  
7\. Posto mae, Lindir. Aniron idho. Aur telitha lagor. - Rest well, Lindir. I need to sleep. Morning will come swiftly.  
8\. Maer dú, Glorfindel. Posto mae. - Good night, Glorfindel. Sleep well.


	15. The Healing House

The Healing House at Imladris was a one-story building separate from the main house situated not far from the stables. It consisted of a large twenty-five bed ward, three private rooms (usually reserved for nobility), eight small two-bed rooms, the private quarters of the healers, the herb room, the kitchen, and the solarium.

It was so designed that the rooms housing the injured received the morning sun, in hope that the cheerful rays of Anor would lift the spirit and dispel some of the gloom that was always associated with illness or hurt. The solarium was a sunny place of solace and rest with cosy nooks where those recuperating from illness could sit and enjoy a sense of the outdoors without having to dress or be exposed to the elements.

The building was entered through a double archway that fronted a wide central corridor lined with benches and potted plants. The corridor ran the entire length of the house and exited at a stone path that led to an extensive garden of herbs and flowering plants, grown specifically for medicinal purposes.

Although Lord Elrond was a master healer in his own right and well respected throughout the land, it was Master Healer Anaran and his wife, Miradhel, who oversaw the day to day operations and management of the healing house. Miradhel's knowledge of herbal craft was extensive. She and two apprentices cared for and tended the various plants and gardens, harvesting and drying the tender leaves and roots, bottling and labeling them according to their content and usage. Master Anaran currently had in training one journeyman healer and the two apprentices, so the house was well staffed and prepared for any emergency.

The herb room was where most of the medicines were stored. It contained a small brazier for heating water, a large sink, various cabinets and shelves used for the mixing and storing of the healing plants and flowers, and a large table and chairs.

The healing rooms were bright and airy and designed with comfort in mind. Each occupant would have his or her own nightstand, chest of drawers, visitor's chairs, washbasin, footstool, and a windowed view of the beautiful waterfalls whose beauty graced the Elven realm. Currently, there were only five patients in residence, all warriors. Three were bedded in the ward and two in private rooms. Four had been injured in the skirmish with the bandits, one from a mishap at daily practice. Of the five, Tebring had the most serious hurts.

Two elves were seated on a bench in the main hall when Lindir entered the healing house after breakfast. They were his comrades-in-arms, Garion and Tambor. Garion was a long time resident of Imladris. Much older than Lindir and Tambor, he was highly intelligent with a quiet and dignified manner. Second in command of Lindir's unit, he was one the warriors turned to when they had a problem or needed a companionable ear. Tall, with honey-coloured hair and light-green eyes that always seemed to radiate warmth and affection; he was well thought of and respected by not only the troops, but also the other elves of Imladris.

Tambor was smaller in stature with dark, straight hair cut even with his shoulders, almond-shaped brown eyes and a highly energetic nature. At least, that was his normal persona. Today, he sat slumped in misery, his hair mussed and lank, eyes red and tear-stained.

Garion's arm was around Tambor's shoulder and he was whispering in Tambor's ear when Lindir approached. "Has Tebring awakened?" Lindir asked.

Garion glanced at Tambor and paused a moment before replying. "He has, Lindir, and before you ask, yes, Lord Elrond has spoken with him about the amputation. I have been with Tambor all night and Master Anaran has been kind enough to brief us every so often about Tebring's condition. Tebring awoke early this morning. Elrond was with him and broke the news as gently as he could. "Tebring took it calmly... perhaps, too calmly."

"What do you mean?" Lindir asked, worriedly.

"Lord Elrond told us the usual reaction of an elf who lost a limb is shock, denial and for a while, deep despair. Tebring evinced none of those symptoms. He asked to see Tambor, which at first we thought a good sign. Alas _"

At this, Tambor interrupted. "He does not want me anymore, Lindir!" Tambor's eyes filled with tears. "He says he is releasing me from our bond. When h-his stump as he calls it is healed, he will sail." Tambor then broke down completely and sobbed against Garion's shoulder.

"He cannot mean what he says, Tambor," Lindir said softly. "It is the shock of his condition that makes him say these words. He loves you deeply, gwador, (1) everyone knows that is so. Give him a few days, he will change his mind."

"No, Lindir," Tambor whispered. "Tebring and I have spoken of this before. He said if ever he was maimed, he would sail. If he could not complete his purpose here on Middle- earth, he would not wish to stay and be a burden to others. I asked if he would not stay out of love for me and he looked me in the eyes and said no. That hurt and I told him so, but he did not wish to speak of it further. I-I stayed angry with him for a while. But how foolish to be angry over what may never come to be, so I forgave his words and worried no more about them. And now, Lindir, it has happened. Tebring has lost his leg and is going to leave me."

"Oh, Tambor, surely you are mistaken. His pride is hurt and he is in denial. When he has time to think it over he will regret his words. You have been together too long for him to make such a hasty decision." Lindir spoke out of concern for his friend, but in the back of his mind he was wondering what he would do if he was in Tebring's place. Would he wish to force Glorfindel to be saddled with an invalid? An involuntary shudder ran down his spine. Lindir could not bear thinking along those lines. Poor Tebring, poor Tambor, what a crushing blow to befall his friends. He opened his mouth to say something soothing to Tambor, but quickly closed it as no thought came to mind. Slightly embarrassed, he looked down at the floor, feeling somewhat sick and shaky.

"You do not understand, Lindir. I do not believe Tebring is going to sail. I believe he only told me that to keep me away. He is fading, Lindir, already his eyes are dead. I pleaded with him, begged him to reconsider, to let me stay by his side and help him through this. Tebring never raised his voice, just told Lord Elrond that he wished me to leave. He would not look at me after that. You have come in vain, Lindir. He will not see you, nor Garion or Glorfindel. He has no wish to see anyone except the healers, only because they can relieve the pain of his wound. Do not bother trying to tell me he will decide differently. Lord Elrond also thinks he is fading and Elrond's concern is that it is happening so fast. What shall I do without him, Lindir? He is my life!"

Lindir sat down on the bench and along with Garion, tried his best to comfort his friend. He knew not what to say, except that he was sorry. Stroking the other's hair, he told Tambor he would be there for him and would help in any way he could. "We will find a way to bring him back, Tambor. Do not give up hope. We will fight for him gwador (1).

Tambor could not answer. The three sat a long time on the bench, holding each other, feeling each other's pain. Finally, Garion told Lindir to go. "I shall stay with Tambor, Lindir. He needs to eat and rest. Come back at a later time. We will send notice if there are any changes." Reluctantly, Lindir agreed.

"Garion is right." Tambor said softly. "There is nothing you can do for now. We will need all our strength later. I will not give up, Lindir. I cannot lose him. If he fades, I will fade also. Lord Elrond promised to speak with us later. Go, we will inform you of what he says."

Lindir gave both his comrades a hug and a wistful smile then turned and made his way out of the Healing house, back toward the Manor. His thoughts were heavy as he walked down the path. So much so, that he did not notice at first that Haldir had joined him.

"You look troubled, meldir (2). Do you wish to talk?" Haldir had figured that Lindir would visit Tebring, and had been on his way to the Healing House to find him when he saw the minstrel walking his way. He was concerned about Tebring's condition and Lindir's reaction to it, but also wished to ask his friend how things had gone with Glorfindel, for the seneschal had left early this morning for patrol and Haldir had not had a chance to speak with him.

"If you do not mind, Haldir, there is much I have to tell you, but I wish our conversation to be private. Would you mind forgoing lunch in the dining hall and eating with me in my room instead?"

"I would enjoy that, Lindir." Haldir replied. "Why not let me arrange with the kitchen to have our meal delivered and I will meet you in your chambers."

"No, Haldir. It is my turn this time. Let me speak with the kitchen staff and you meet me back here." Lindir felt guilt over what had happened yesterday and wished to make it up to the Marchwarden.

"Why do we not go together, Lindir," Haldir said, giving the minstrel an amused glance. After we eat if you wish, we will go to the market and see about your gift to Glorfindel. I have not forgotten my promise. We will be back by the time he returns from patrol if you need to speak with him." Haldir looked at Lindir slyly. "Is there anything you wish to tell me about last night?"

The sudden light that sparked in Lindir's eyes told Haldir all he needed to know. "You told him, I see, and it looks as if you may have good news for me?" Lindir was about to speak, but Haldir placed a finger on his lips. "I can see you are bursting to tell me, but wait until we arrange our fast. Then you can tell me over a glass of wine." He gave his friend a hug, then grasped his hand and headed for the kitchen.

Glorfindel had awakened that morning after only three hours of sleep, for the first time in a long while regretting that he had to ride out early on patrol. It would have been so nice to lie in bed curled next to his lover, to watch his beautiful elf awaken. But alas, duty called. As quietly as he could, he untangled himself from Lindir's arms and rose from the bed. Lindir had mumbled a bit in his sleep and reached out an arm as if searching for the warm body that had held him close throughout the night, but soon settled and was at peace once more. Glorfindel placed a gentle kiss on Lindir's forehead then dressed in the same clothes he had on last night and quietly left the room, heading for his own chambers.

Once he reached his suite, he removed his garments then went into his private bath and filled the tub with warm water. When it was full, he stepped in and stretched out his legs, enjoying the soothing feel of the water as it caressed his body and relaxed his muscles. He wet his head then poured a small amount of aromatic soap into his hand and began to wash his hair. The minty smell of the soap made him feel refreshed and awake, ready to start the new day. He rinsed his hair with clear water then bathed the rest of his body. When he was through, he drained the tub and dried himself with one of the linen cloths that the maids delivered fresh and clean to his room each morning.

Taking a fresh cloth, he gently dried his hair as he walked into the other room. Throwing the linen into a basket on the floor, he stood before his dresser, picked up his comb and began to work the tangles from his hair. He was running behind schedule, so instead of the usual warrior braids, he plaited one long braid then bound it with a leather cord. He selected a pair of leather leggings from the wardrobe, pulled them over his hips then slipped into a thin undershirt over which he placed a well-worn leather tunic. Tying off the laces, he donned his belt and the leather harness that held his quiver and knives then strapped on his armbands and gloves. His cloak, he folded neatly and packed in his carry bag. Last, were boots in which he tucked a short knife. Sheathing his sword, he picked up his bow and headed out to the stable.

The sky was beginning to lighten when he reached the wooden structure. One of the lads greeted him warmly and handed him a freshly brewed cup of tea. Accepting the tea gratefully, he sipped at the warm liquid while waiting for the lad to lead Asfaloth from the stall. The great white horse was full of energy and at the sight of his master, gave a loud snort. He danced and whinnied and pulled against the lead rope before calmly walking up to Glorfindel and nudging the warrior with his nose. Glorfindel's pockets usually held an apple or another one of his favourite treats and he did not wish to miss out. With a wide grin, the seneschal pulled a fat red apple from his pocket and watched as velvet lips delicately plucked the ripe fruit from his palm. Asfaloth enjoyed these morning rituals and once he had finished the tasty snack, stood waiting patiently for his master to mount so they could begin their morning ride. Usually, they would start at a canter then Glorfindel would let him have his head and they would fly down the road at a fast gallop. Both horse and rider enjoyed the freedom of the moment, the wind in their hair and the bond between old friends.

A rosy glow softened the horizon as Glorfindel and Asfaloth reached the first checkpoint. The shifts had just changed and the night duty officer pulled the seneschal aside to give his report. All had gone well and the borders were quiet. Glorfindel dismissed the officer and went to speak with the guardians that had come on duty. Double-checking the schedule and the plans for this day, he left soon afterward and headed for the next guard talan. He would continue his rounds, meeting with each unit head, before finally joining his patrol to search their assigned area for any sign of trouble or unrest. He was in a great mood. The day was fine and his night with Lindir had lifted his spirits and made him eager to face whatever the world brought his way.

Lindir could not help but smile as he watched the Marchwarden flirt with Eowidith, the head cook. The silver-haired elf could charm the trousers from a dwarf if he tried hard enough, and Eowidith was as close to a dwarf as an elf could be, at least in temperament. She guarded her terrain with the ferocity of a she-bear protecting its cubs, and she especially hated the thought of elves eating in their rooms. For did not she and her staff spend hours setting the tables in the dining hall for the express purpose of pleasing these same elves three times per day. Even Lord Elrond would search for a lesser cook when he needed to make arrangements with the kitchen staff. If it were not for her grand culinary skills, Eowidith would never have the position she did today, for tact and diplomacy were two words that did not exist in her vocabulary.

Therefore, it was with amazement that Lindir watched Haldir charm the sour-faced elf until she was cooing in delight. Nothing was good enough for her Lórien visitor, and soon a tray was prepared that was filled with more delicacies than Lindir and Haldir could eat in a week, including a bottle of a fine Mirkwood wine. The grumpy elf even promised to deliver the tray herself. She beamed a smile at Haldir, then gave Lindir an evil look, telling him that two of the blueberry tarts were reserved specifically for the Marchwarden.

Lindir was still shaking his head in amazement when they left the kitchen and began walking towards the section of the building that housed the sleeping chambers. "I do not see how you do it, Haldir," Lindir said, laughing at his friends puzzled look. "We all hide when Eowidith is in the kitchen. Even Lord Elrond secretly lives in fear of her temper. Erector is the only elf in Imladris that she halfway tolerates. Woe to the elf that disturbs her domain. Yet you had her so wrapped around your finger, that I bet in five minutes she would have shown you the larder and tried to tuck you into her pantry!"

Haldir raised his dark eyebrows and arranged his face in the arrogant smirk that was his familiar trademark. "For shame, Lindir. She is a sweet lady. You just have to play to her good side. Why, she even told me you need to eat more. She worries about you, thinks you are way too thin." Haldir did not crack a smile as he continued to talk about the head cook's virtues, although he did give the minstrel a quick wink. He had Lindir laughing so hard the minstrel thought his sides would split. Each time Lindir brought to mind the picture of stone-faced Eowidith flirting with the Marchwarden, fresh peals of laughter erupted from his lips.

He remembered the long ago days when the old cook used to chase after him and Tebring. She was always threatening to bean them on the head with her old black skillet if they stole another cookie or tart from the cooling trays in the kitchen. They lived in dread of the old cook actually catching them. But her fiery temper and evil eye did not stay their effort to snatch the tempting desserts the next time they smelled their delicious aroma. Lindir sobered immediately at the thought of Tebring. The possibility of losing such a good friend brought tears to his eyes. The light-hearted elf had been the first friend his age that he made at Imladris, and for a long time was his only friend. Tebring could not be fading, he just could not leave them in that way.

Haldir noticed Lindir's change in manner and stopped his teasing. The two walked for a ways in silence, when Lindir suddenly stopped before a door and told Haldir to wait in the corridor. "I shall not be long." After slipping quietly into the room, true to his word, Lindir was back in just a few moments, a lap harp clutched under his arm. When Haldir looked at him in surprise, he smiled. "Glorfindel told me you played. If it pleases you, we could play together later."

"Glorfindel's mouth runs like the river," Haldir said with a wry smile. "I have nowhere near your talent, Lindir, but playing with you can only help me to improve my skill. Besides, I would play a stick if it would guarantee a command performance all my own from the best Harper in Imladris." Lindir blushed at the compliment. Haldir had a way of making his troubles take a backseat. Lindir could see why his men loved the captain so dearly. He wondered at the tales he had heard about the Marchwarden, how he cavalierly tossed one lover aside for another. It was easy for Lindir to picture Haldir as a flirt, but he could not imagine his friend treating another elf so coldly. Perhaps, he would ask Glorfindel about the truth of the rumours. Lindir's thoughts were interrupted as they reached the door to his room and Haldir opened it and ushered him inside.

-On the outskirts of the Last Homely House

The wood was quiet and still, the normal chatter of the forest animals silenced, the air around them hot and oppressive. Hanging vines clutched at their faces as they led their horses close to the trunks of the massive trees, trying to stay within their shadow. The warriors were following a trail of blood that led from an area where there had been some type of scuffle or fight. Glorfindel was in the lead, two guardians rode single file behind him. Each had their arrows nocked on their bowstring, muscles tensed, eyes and senses alert to any sudden movement or unusual noise. Sighting a bent branch with drops of wet, red blood on its leaves, Glorfindel led Asfaloth in that direction. Whoever or whatever had left the trail was hurting badly and travelling at a rapid pace. Glorfindel and his warriors sought a party of at least two, the hunter and his prey. Although, Glorfindel had sent a guard back for reinforcements, for the dense wood could hide many enemies and after the previous attack by the bandits, it would not hurt to be too careful.

It was past the end of their shift, but Glorfindel and the two warriors would stay on the trail until they found what lay at its end. Their quarry was slowing its pace. Considering how long the elves had been travelling, whoever or whatever they were seeking had lost much blood. Guiding Asfaloth around a particularly wicked hanging vine, Glorfindel tensed, then ducked as a knife flew past his ear and embedded deeply into the trunk of a tree behind him. Before he could make another movement, loud cries filled the air and the three elves found themselves embroiled in a fight for their lives.

1\. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)  
2\. meldir - friend


	16. The Harpists

True to her word, Eowidith lugged the heavy serving tray down the corridor leading to Lindir's chambers, grumbling every step of the way and scowling at any who crossed her path. The old cook thought about the silver- haired elf that charmed her so. She knew that every word that came out of the warrior's mouth was pure wargwash but she did not care. It had been a long time since any elf had bothered to speak to her in honeyed tones, and even though she knew it was all in play, she loved the Marchwarden the more for it.

Reaching the door to the Lindir's room, she rested one edge of the tray against its surface, freeing her hand to knock against the wooden panel. Before she could actually make the sound, the door opened and a smiling Haldir took the tray from her grasp. "My dear Eowidith," the Marchwarden chided, "I did not expect you to lug this tray up here all by yourself. You must truly love me after all!" He laughed as the cook just shook her head and tsked at him.

"Captain Haldir, you will have me blushing like a young maiden if you keep this up. Now tell me where you wish to dine and I will set your places. You two lovebirds might wish to share your feast on the balcony, considering what a fine day this has turned out to be." Eowidith gave the Lórien warrior a huge smile then turned her gaze to Lindir and frowned. "Leave it to the young ones to sit on their thumbs and let their elder's do the work. You have hooked quite a prize, talagan (1), and if you do not watch it, he will swim away!"

"Ah, Eowidith, Lindir is Glorfindel's love, not mine." Haldir said with a smug look. "But for now, that is our little secret. So it is best you set up here on this table, after all, we do not wish to give anyone the wrong idea." Haldir directed her to a small table inside Lindir's chamber.

"I should have known you would have better sense than to choose an elf that has not a shred of meat on his bones." Eowidith said, looking like the proverbial cat that had just swallowed the canary. "Lord Glorfindel now, with all his fine ways and airs...well, I can see how such a delicate little bird would strike his fancy. Balrog Slayer indeed! Was he not just in my kitchen the other day asking for a tray to be brought to this very same room? And right in the middle of my dinner preparations. I let him know what I thought of that! Never seen an elf so glad to exit my kitchen; practically tucked his tail between his legs in his effort to leave. Protector of Imladris, hah! Why the first sign of an Orc and he would..."

"Now, now Eowidith," Haldir said, quickly interrupting the cook before she truly got started on her diatribe against the ancient warrior. "You must not go on so about Lindir's heart. I shall let you in on another secret, I am a long time friend of the seneschal and know all about the stories of the First and Second age." The Marchwarden put his arm around the stiff-backed cook and began to lead her gently from the room.

"Glorfindel was a lot different in those days and that night there was a terrible conflagration...dragons, orcs, demons from the darkest depths of Arda pouring destruction on the Hidden City. Very few escaped their wrath.

... And when the dreaded Balrog appeared cutting off all hope of escape, his fiery whip slaying all in his way, brave Glorfindel stepped up. The dark demon cried out, "Who is that ugly being that shines like the sun?"

...which of course infuriated Glorfindel and he plunged his sword deep into its heart. While dear Glorfindel was boasting of his bravado, preening and running his fingers through his shining hair, the cheeky Balrog grabbed a handful of the golden locks and pulled... "

And so it went. Out the door and down the hall, Haldir regaled an almost giggling Eowidith with a mostly nonfactual and somewhat comedic account of the duel to the death between the force of evil, the putrescent Balrog and light, Rivendell's own mighty Balrog Slayer, Glorfindel. By the time they made it to the great hall where they would part, Haldir knew that the ancient warrior would never be able to redeem himself in Eowidith's eyes. Eowidith, for her part proceeded to the kitchen with a smug grin, determined it was her duty to keep a watchful eye on the vain and self-centered elf that Lord Elrond had misguidedly brought home to Imladris and trusted to its security.

Now that she was out of sight, Haldir almost skipped down the corridor back to Lindir's room. He usually did not indulge in such fanciful tales (lies) but he knew the dour cook could use a little humour in her life and that she had sense enough to know fact from fiction even if she would be loathe to admit it. Haldir laughed. That was fun. His only regret about the whole incident was that if Lindir and Glorfindel had planned to keep their love a secret, the cat was now out of the bag. For Eowidith was known not only for her fiery temper, but also for having the biggest mouth this side of the Bruinen!

Pulling up once again to the entrance of Lindir's chamber, Haldir slipped inside and rested his back against the door. As soon as his eyes met those of Lindir, the two burst into laughter, neither able to stop for a long moment. "Ah, Haldir, I needed that," Lindir said when he was finally able to speak.

"Laughter is good for the soul," the Marchwarden replied, his shoulders still shaking slightly. "And Eowidith did take the time to bring our meal to us in person, so we must not let her efforts go to waste." The food was not only hot, but also delicious, and it did not take long before both Lindir and Haldir had eaten their fill and finished most of the bottle of vintage Mirkwood wine. In between bites, Lindir told Haldir what had transpired between him and Glorfindel, of the love they now shared, and he thanked Haldir for giving him the courage to bring it out into the open. And Haldir was truly glad for both his friends, for it gave him a warm feeling inside to know that two hearts would be lonely no longer.

They talked for awhile then Lindir began to clear the remnants of their feast from the table. Haldir watched then idly moved to sit upon the bed. As he looked around Lindir's room, he wondered at the life of the comely elf, for the room was luxurious but terribly impersonal. There were none of the tangible reminders of a homey existence - souvenirs from distant places, sentimental ornaments or the type of clutter one would normally see in a "lived-in" room. All surfaces were bare of decoration; the chamber was sterile, cold.

A bank of arched windowed openings in the far wall led to a wide balcony upon which sat two chairs and a small table. The light from the windows relieved the mahogany-panelled walls, which normally would have darkened the chamber. Lindir's carved wooden bed was the dominant piece of furniture and was covered with a beautiful, dark, blue quilt worked with light, blue embroidery in a pattern depicting a stylized lyre entwined with flowering vines. The bed was piled high with plump velvet pillows that carried the same colour scheme and made it looked quite inviting.

The whole room was arranged by someone with a gifted hand. The heavy curtains that framed each window and matched the spread were held back with ties that were fringed in the same light blue as the embroidery on the coverlet. A large cushioned chair with a comfortable matching ottoman repeated the same colours in heavier velvet brocade, the wood of its frame and legs carved in a beautiful flowing pattern so typical of Elven design.

Opposite the footboard of the bed was the second largest piece of furniture, a heavily burled mahogany wardrobe, its front panelled doors highly polished and outlined with raised moulding. The top of the wardrobe contained a decorative panel that rose to a point. It was carved in high relief, depicting the same lyre centered in the stitches of the spread. The whole was balanced on delicate curved feet, the entire piece reaching upward to within a foot of the high ceiling, whose curved surface was painted a pale blue and decorated with stars.

On each side of the bed was a small wooden table, one of which held a cast metal candelabrum and the other a vase of freshly cut flowers. On the left of the bed, against the corridor wall was a small bookcase. There were many volumes of books on its shelves, each sorted and arranged in precise order, for Lindir, like Erestor, was highly organized. After all, Lindir did help the advisor with research and with maintaining Lord Elrond's library. But in spite of the lovely adornments and the handsome furniture, the room could have belonged to anyone. There was nothing in it that spoke of its owner at all. Or so Haldir thought, till his eyes caught the far corner of the room. There, close to the window to take advantage of the light, was undoubtedly the most beautiful object in the room and the one most cared for.

The full-sized harp, only the second that Haldir had ever seen, rose to a height of almost six feet. It was lovely beyond all imagine. The sound box was vast, at least to Haldir, for he was used only to the lap harp and it rose at a slant from its stepped base on the floor. The rounded column of the harp was fluted with a carved capital, ending with a distinctive backward curlicue at the top. The neck was gracefully curved and 89 wrapped strings were attached to its left side. There were three rows of these strings, their bottoms attached in alternate spacing on the centre of the soundboard. The two outer rows were strung in unison, which Lindir later explained were tuned to the natural notes and the middle row was tuned to the accidentals. The whole of the harp was smoothly sanded and polished with a detailed carved and gilded decoration at the neck and the knee. The wide sound box was pierced and a lovely gilded and coloured floral design was painted around each hole. Haldir had never seen a triple harp up close and was extremely impressed with its size, look, and the overall beauty of its design.

Lindir, noting Haldir's examination of the harp, went to stand by its side. "Have you ever played a three row harp?" he asked. When Haldir shook his head, Lindir smiled. "It is difficult, for you must pluck the inside strings to play sharps and flats, but there are many more things about it that are unique, that make the effort worthwhile. For instance," and with this, Lindir sat behind the harp and rested it upon his left shoulder. His fingers gracefully plucked the outer strings and he played a series of quick repeats. Haldir's face lit with surprise. There was no way to reproduce that sound on a simple lap harp.

Lindir laughed at his expression. "Oh, there are many advantages to this instrument. I can play it so many different ways. I can play the melody of a tune with one hand or with both. I can alternate the melody with both hands or play with one hand and harmonize with the other. It is so much more complex than that which you play. He plucked a lively little tune and the shimmer of notes that the harp produced was like nothing Haldir had ever heard.

Entranced, the warrior came closer and reaching out, plucked a few of the strings with the pads of his fingers. "So lovely," he mused. "Play something, Lindir. The minstrel complied and the sound was as if three harpers sat together and played. The notes trilled up and down the scales, their sweet sounds lingering in the air, building in volume as Lindir plucked faster and harder on the strings, then softening, till almost naught was heard. The sound was as of laughter on a summer day and Haldir could hear the chirrup of tiny birds, the trill of the nightingale. Lindir changed his finger motion and Haldir imagined the soft patter of a gentle rain, the tinkling of a fountain. Each individual note rang clean and crisp and the two elves laughed with the joy of the music.

"Name me one of your favourites and we will play together," Lindir said, looking at the Marchwarden with shining blue eyes. Picking up the lap harp and testing its strings, Haldir cocked his head to the side in thought. "Perhaps the Lay of Nimrodel?" he suggested. And with Haldir playing the melody, Lindir's fingers on the great harp wove a moving accompaniment to the well-known lay.

"You are much better than you profess, Haldir," Lindir said. "I had no idea you played, much less the extent of your talent. I am surprised you do not sit with the harpers at the festivals in Lothlórien."

"You are kind in your compliments, Lindir, but you overstate my skill. There are a few guardians who have talent at the pipes and harp and we come together in fun. But it is never arranged and is not a formal practice, just an impromptu gathering." Haldir shrugged his shoulders as if to emphasize the non-importance of the event.

"Nevertheless, you are much better than you admit, and now that we have played together we must do so more often. Promise me we will play again at least once more before you leave!"

Lindir kept at it until he obtained a promise from the Marchwarden. They played a few more simple tunes, then Haldir played one that he had written himself. It was quick and lively and once Lindir learned the melody, he hummed along in time.

Eventually, Haldir tried his hand at the great Harp, laughing as his fingers tried to reach inside to the centre strings, much more difficult than it looked. "Aaagh, he cried in frustration, I can hit the notes, but it throws off my timing."

"It is a practice you must become used to," Lindir said, laughing along with Haldir. "It would not take you long to do so, and you will find once you play a triple harp, it is hard to give up.

"I daresay," said Haldir, "but I am sure they cost a fair amount of coin, and I cannot see one sitting in my talan. Besides, Rúmil and Orophin would have a fit. They tease me enough about the simple harp I play at home!"

"Well, you are welcome to play mine anytime. And the next time I visit Lothlórien, I plan to call you up for a duet. It is about time others heard your skill, for you play as well as many of the Harpers at Imladris. You constantly surprise me, Haldir. Your talents are numerous, and you display them with such modesty. What other skills have you that I have yet to discover?" Lindir smiled at the odd look that Haldir gave him.

"I have plenty others that it would not be appropriate for me to show you," Haldir said wistfully, but with a sly grin on his face. "I hope Glorfindel realizes what a treasure he has in you, mellonen (2), for if things were different, I would take you home with me to love and cherish. Ah, but you cannot control the ways of the heart and yours is bound to another."

"You are such a tease, Haldir," Lindir replied. "Come, let us play one more tune and this time we will sing the different parts together while we play. What about the song of Beren and Lúthien?" It is long, but if you can play it, I would love to hear us together."

"I can." Haldir replied. "I shall play the melody and you the accompaniment. I shall sing low part and you can sing high." It was a beautiful performance, the sad strains of the music telling the tale of the fateful lovers. Haldir's bass to Lindir's sweet soprano paid homage to both the music and the lyrics.

Such was Haldir and Lindir's joy in the music they could have played for the rest of the day, but time was passing and they had much to do. With a happy sigh, Haldir put down the harp and motioned for Lindir to do the same. "If you wish to browse the market and be done before Glorfindel arrives, we had best leave now."

Lindir nodded in agreement then feeling guilty about Tebring, asked if Haldir minded making a stop at the Healing House, for it lay in the direction they would be heading. Haldir voiced his acceptance and they left with that intention.

Tebring's mate, Tambor, and the ever faithful Garion were seated once again on the bench in the corridor when Haldir and Lindir entered the House of Healing. Tambor told them that Tebring still locked himself in seclusion and would speak only with Healer Anaran or Lord Elrond. They talked of Tebring's stubbornness and other matters but there was not much else they could do besides give their support to the grieving Tambor. They stayed for a while then politely made their leave, promising to return soon.

Since it would not be too much longer before Glorfindel was due back from patrol, Haldir and Lindir walked swiftly down the tree-shaded path that led to the market. They would spend a few hours looking at the different wares, and Haldir planned to suggest items he thought might appeal to Lindir and his ancient warrior.

-Ambush

"It is an ambush, fall back!" Glorfindel shouted, as he spun Asfaloth around. He had exchanged his bow for his sword as soon as the men dropped from their hidden perch in the trees. Vastly outnumbered, the seneschal knew the elves only hope would be to make a quick escape and ride back to meet the reinforcement unit he had sent for earlier.

Wielding his sword like the seasoned warrior that he was, Glorfindel tried to keep his eye on both the attackers and the two elves fighting by his side. During a moment of opportunity, he swung Asfaloth in between the men and his companions, giving the two guardians a free path to escape. "Noro assan!" (3) He shouted, knowing they were too well-trained to hesitate, and would obey his command and flee. He paused only long enough to make sure, before plunging back into the thick of the battle. He had fought a Balrog, surely he could hold the men off long enough to save his friends.

But these were not a mis-matched group of bandits he was fighting. True, they wore no marked armour but they fought as a highly trained unit and they knew how to fight against elves. Managing to keep Asfaloth near a close group of trees and vines, Glorfindel was able to keep the men from circling around behind him but their numbers were such he and Asfaloth were hard put to hold them off.

Drawing on inner reserves, Glorfindel began an ancient chant in Quenya. His time spent incarnate in Valinor was not in vain, as he had gained much power from his association with the Maiar. As the last words left his lips, his body began to glow from deep within, till a golden light burst forth, blinding all in its path, causing his enemies to back away. But the protection came a bit late. Before the spell had time to take hold, the ancient warrior received a deep gash in his thigh and another in his sword arm. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Glorfindel continued his chant in silence, praying his strength would hold in time for reinforcements to arrive.

1\. talagan - harper  
2\. mellonen - my friend  
3\. Noro assan! - Run for it!

The Triple Harp was crafted in Italy around the 16th century and came to the British Isles sometime in the 17th century. With the invention of the Pedal Harp its use declined. It has remained popular in Wales and is commonly known today as the Welsh Harp. Tolkien makes no mention of the Triple Harp in his books, so I took the liberty of adding one in my story.


	17. The Market - Imladris

They could hear the noise before they reached the market. Vendors crying their wares, the cluck of chickens, squeal of pigs, hammering of farriers and metalworkers, all merged with the ever present voice of the crowd to create a cacophony of sound. And the smells... mingled with the delicious aroma of baking bread and roasting meat, were the exotic odour of spice and herb and the heady scent of the fragrant blossoms in the trees.

Lindir had, of course, been to the market many times before. But he saw it with new eyes when accompanied by his friend. The large field beneath the shady trees had been used as a marketplace ever since the end of the War of the Last Alliance. It was more than just a site where vendors came to sell their merchandise. It was also a gathering spot for friends both of home and afar, for there were many foreign faces in the crowd. The stalls ranged from simple wooden barriers to grand tents and canopies hung with cloths of sheer, silken material of all colour and pattern. The breeze caught the fabrics and they fluttered like the sails of a sailing ship that were lost as to which way the wind would blow. The myriad flags and banners of the craft guilds added to the bright scheme, and many of the booths had colourful ribbons attached to the supporting poles, their ends swinging freely in the gusts and containing tiny bells or bits of shell or clay that tinkled merry tunes.

Haldir o Lórien had a smile from ear to ear, for he had not much opportunity to visit the thriving market community of Imladris. Lothlórien had its market, but its displays were of local ware. Here there were items unusual and exotic, coming from all the different corners of Arda, and Haldir, despite his travels to many places, was duly impressed with the variety and selection.

"Where do you wish to look first," he asked Lindir, not wanting to sway the young Elf any more in his choice than was necessary. The minstrel looked back at him with haunted eyes.

"I have no idea, Haldir. Now that Glorfindel and I are close, I am even more at a loss of what to choose, for though I feel great love for my lord, I still know him not."

Haldir felt a sense of shame radiating from Lindir at these words, almost as if the young elf blamed him self for not being aware of how the Seneschal spent his days. He did not seem to understand that part of the wonder of new love was getting to know one's mate. His likes, dislikes, fears, joys, the minutiae of his being revealed slowly and carefully, as one peeled the outer covering of a rare fruit to find the enticing sweetness and beauty inside. Ah, poor Lindir, he thought, so much to offer and so little faith in himself and his abilities. Haldir hoped that Glorfindel could find a way to build the young elf's self esteem.

"Well, I have always found the best way to start is by looking. If you are lucky, something will jump out at you and say this is it. More often than not, you will have to use some thought, but it is much better to relax and enjoy the beautiful things around you than to have a pre-set notion in your mind and try to match it. Let us stroll through today and see what is offered."

Passing up the food booths, their first stop was at a large tent that flew the pennant of the weaver's guild. The sides of the tent were rolled up allowing the sun to show off the bolts of lovely fabric on display. There were tables stacked with handmade tunics and robes in every colour of the rainbow, some plain, and some with intricate design. Two elleths (1) with dark brown hair and measuring strings hanging from their necks were busy chatting with potential customers. The click-clack of hand-looms could be heard from behind a heavy curtain hanging in the back. A large oval mirror stood in one corner and one of the females positioned her customer in front of it and held up a beautiful light grey tunic to his chest. The velvety fabric was embroidered with green and blue dragonflies and trimmed with silver braid. Somehow the elf maiden knew just the right colours to bring out the hair and eyes of the Elf who stood in front of the glass. Lindir could tell the ellon (2) was pleased, for he turned his shoulders to and fro, and a look of smug satisfaction crossed his face. It was not long before coin changed hands, and the elf left with his purchase under his arm.

The pretty maiden stepped over to the minstrel and gave him a wide smile. "Are you looking for anything in particular today?" she asked. "A new tunic, or perhaps a new robe for when you play nights in the Hall of Fire?" Lindir was surprised that the elleth (3) knew he was a minstrel, and the look on her face showed she understood his thought. "You are well-know through-out Imladris, Lindir. Did you think I would not recognize you in daylight?" The maiden laughed and turned to Haldir. "Perhaps you are wishing to purchase some gifts to bring back to your friends? Or need a new tunic for yourself? It is not often we see the Marchwarden of Lothlórien at our humble fair. I would be proud to show you some of our best made. In fact, I have a tunic finished this morning that would bring out the golden highlights in your eyes." She moved over to the table, picked up a beige coloured tunic that was embroidered with red and gold mellryn leaves and held it up to Haldir. The Marchwarden fingered the material and sighed. "It is lovely, sweet one, but I am not buying today. Perhaps, I will change my mind tomorrow, for I daresay we will be back here again. I would try it on, but we are too pushed for time. Thank you for your time. It has been delightful to gaze upon your sweet face." Haldir gave the elleth a brilliant smile and the maiden lowered her eyes and blushed.

"Well, Marchwarden, I hope then to see you tomorrow." she said coyly.

"Come, Lindir, we have more places yet to visit." Haldir gave the maiden a wink then turned back to his friend. "You may consider trying a few tunics on yourself if we return."

Walking side by side, they drew up to the leather-workers pavilion, the sights of the tanned and prepared skins a familiar one to warriors. Belts, boots, arm bands, saddles, sheaths and other various odd pieces, all exuding that particular smell of the tack room, a musky yet satisfying odour, hung from pegs on posts or lay on the table-like shelf surrounding the structure. An older elf with sparkling green eyes was sitting at a bench in the corner hammering a tooled die to a strip of hard leather, stamping the design on its hardened tip into the browned skin. "Come to shop or just feel at home?" The warrior asked with a wry grin, as he got up to greet his guests.

"Celeng!" Lindir exclaimed, matching the warrior's grin with a wide smile of his own. "It has been long, where have you been hiding?

"I would ask the same of you, young minstrel, for you are looking well and have found a new companion, I see." Celeng replied.

"Forgive my manners Celeng, this is Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien. He is staying in Imladris for the week and is a good friend. Haldir, this is Celeng, also an old friend. I have known him since I first entered the guard for he was one of my weapon masters and taught me the use of the knives."

Haldir bowed slightly in deference to the older warrior. "It is always an honour to meet a fellow centurion. You taught Lindir well, for I have had a chance to judge his skill."

"I knew your father, young Haldir," Celeng replied. "He used to speak often of you and your brothers. He always had my respect."

"Thank you for your kind words. If it would not offend, may I ask why you are no longer a member of the guard?" Haldir raised his eyebrows in question to his elder.

"It would not offend, pen-neth, and it is no secret. I was maimed by the sharp hooves of a wild stallion and must now walk with the use of a crutch. No more a warrior's life for me, so I took up the craft of my kin. I must say, it suites me well." The old warrior laughed heartily, revealing a set of beautiful white teeth. "Perhaps, you would be needing a new pair of boots or the like, Master Haldir?"

Haldir frowned at the address. "It has been many an age since I have been called Master, gwador (4) and you are not that much older to speak of me as such."

Ah, I was just teasing Marchwarden, do not take offense." the tanner replied. "I see you have inherited your Father's quick temper as well!" At this the green eyes twinkled merrily. "Hah, young Lindir, you had better watch this one."

Haldir emitted a "humph", then picked up a pair of soft brown boots. He eyed the elder for a moment then said in a low voice. "Lindir's partner lost his leg in a skirmish a few days past. Lord Elrond fears he will fade. Do you know Tebring, mate of Tambor?"

The tanner looked sad for a moment. "Aye, I know the elf well. He came here a fortnight ago and ordered a pair of boots similar to those." Celeng pointed to the pair in Haldir's hands. "I can see he will not be returning for them any time soon." Celeng sighed. "I trained Lindir, Tambor, Tebring, Galelas, and Fyril, all in the same class. They were a close knit group, always hanging out together and creating mischief. Tebring and Tambor were the leaders, back then they were like brothers. Tebring was the heart and soul of the group, always full of laughter and fun and Tambor was the motivator. He never stopped that one. Tambor had so much energy. He could run you around in circles. He ran Tebring around and finally caught him, I hear. "Celeng laughed, but the sound was bittersweet. "I need to visit the Healing House and have a word with those two."

"He will not see you," Lindir told his former mentor. "He has closeted himself in his room and only lets Lord Elrond or Master Anaran in, and that, only to check his wounds. He is a shell of his former self. He even pushes Tambor away. He is fading, gwador."

"He will see me," Celeng replied. "I shall take Glorfindel with me. Together we may rouse him. If you remember, Lindir, I was in the same condition after my accident. Lord Glorfindel changed my frame of mind, knocked sense into my head."

"I think you shall find Tebring beyond recovery," Lindir said sorrowfully. "Tambor believes it is only a matter of weeks before he leaves for Mandos' Halls. To live the life of a guardian was always his dream and now it is shattered. He feels he has nothing left to live for."

"Young Tambor is worth living for," Celeng said heatedly. "This land is worth living for, the trees, the sky - Tebring needs to open his eyes. There is more to this world than fighting and war. I will keep my promise and visit him tonight. Have no worry, we will find a way to revive him."

"Any attempt is welcome at this point, Celeng. I know Tambor, for sure, will appreciate your effort. I would stay and tall but we are to meet Lord Glorfindel when he returns from patrol. For now, there is a certain item I am searching for and I have a deadline to find it, therefore, I must bid you good-bye." Lindir felt guilt at leaving his old friend so soon, but he truly did not want to miss the opportunity to greet his lover. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach when he thought of the golden lord. A hand on his arm brought him back down to earth.

"Lindir, we must not tarry." said Haldir. He turned to the tanner then grasped the other's arm in a warrior's grip. "Nanarad agevedim, Celeng." (5)

"Nan lû, Haldir, Lindir," (6) the old warrior replied. "I will not forsake Tebring. Off with you, for there is much the market has to offer and this tanner needs return to his work."

Lindir also gave his old friend a warrior's grasp. "Nan lû," (7) he repeated, then turned back to the main pathway to catch up to Haldir.

He found Haldir standing in front of an extremely thin, black-haired elf, wearing a dirty white smock. The elf was seated at a wooden potter's wheel, his hands slithering wetly up the sides of a rotating, slick clay cylinder. His long legs were splayed under the table, his right foot kicking the circular bottom wheel that caused the top wheel to spin in tandem. Haldir was staring at the contraption in fascination and the potter was looking back at the Marchwarden with an intense interest.

"Do you like pottery?" Lindir asked of Haldir. When his friend did not answer, the thin potter spoke. "Cat got your tongue, silver-hair?

Haldir looked up into a pair of blue eyes that were so dark they were almost black. "I have never seen how they were made. The potters where I am from shape their ware from coils of clay, at least, that is what I have seen them do in the shops. Maybe they have one of those devices in another location."

The potter laughed. "Most likely, silver-hair, it would be located wherever they keep their kiln. I have found bringing my potter's wheel helps stimulate interest. It brings the crowd into my shop so I increase my sales. It caught your eye, did it not? Or perhaps, you are more interested in the potter?"

Haldir smirked. Cheeky elf, he thought, a bit too thin for my taste. "I think your pot is out of round," he replied in a snippy tone of voice. "Perhaps you ought to pay more attention to it. What are you crafting, by the way?"

"Whatever you wish, silver-hair," the potter replied silkily and with those words, the potter's hands began to move sensuously up and down the wet column of clay. The cylinder rose higher when he moved his fingers upward then cupping his hands the elf changed the design, causing the top edge to fold inward. Glancing over to see that Haldir was still watching, he slowly slid his fingers down the column again. Each change in the movements of his hands caused a similar change in the revolving piece of clay. Haldir watched fascinated as the potter slowed his movements and began to stroke the slick surface. Up and down went his hands, slowly at first then faster and faster. With each upward stroke and the pressure from his fingers inside the cylinder, the clay shaft grew longer and wider. "See how I make it expand with the touch of my fingers," the potter whispered. There was something very sexual about his movements and as Lindir watched, the tip of Haldir's tongue slipped out to slowly wet his dry lips.

"I have excellent hands," the potter murmured in an almost hypnotic voice. "If you wish, come back later and I will show you what they can do."

"Mmm," Haldir mumbled under his breath, his eyes still locked on the slender fingers of the Noldo. That is, until he felt a sharp punch in his side. "Ouch," he yelped, looking at Lindir then laughed as he saw the pink that stained the young elf's cheeks.

"Some other time," he said with a low growl to the bewitching potter.

"You know where to find me, silver-hair," the other replied, looking at Haldir from under half lowered lids then awarding the Marchwarden an extremely sensual smile.

"Let us leave, now." said Lindir sharply, pulling at Haldir's arm. Reluctantly, Haldir complied.

"What was that all about," Lindir asked Haldir, a pout on his soft pink lips. Haldir reached up and pinched the minstrel's cheek. "Just looking at the wares, Lindir. Just looking at the wares."

"Y-You cannot be interested in him!" Lindir spluttered, turning back to look at the dark-haired elf, who still had his eyes on Haldir. "Haldir, you cannot be serious." The Marchwarden just laughed and wrapping his arm around Lindir's waist led him further down the market path.

They walked past pens of animals, woodcarvers, artists and booths containing fat linen sacks of myriad spices and herbs, all the while heading to what was, undoubtedly, the noisiest place in the market area. The whoosh of the large bellows and the steady pounding of a mallet on iron competed against the lighter beats of the hammers of the jewel-smiths, the craftsmen who forged the finer, precious metals into beautiful works of art.

"Wait here, Lindir." Haldir said touching the other on the shoulder. "I shall return in a moment. There is someone I need to speak with."

Lindir looked to where Haldir was heading and his forehead creased into a frown. Midway up the path was a tall black-haired elf clothed in a black tunic and leggings. The potter had obviously taken off his smock and hurried ahead with the idea of waylaying Haldir. That sneaky rogue, Lindir thought, debating on whether or not he should interfere. His mind made up, he began to walk briskly over to where the Marchwarden was heading.

Haldir moved silently up to the dark elf and grasped him smoothly around the waist. "Do not turn around, pen velui (8). Sliding around until he was facing the black-haired beauty, he took a peek over the other's shoulder and whispered into his ear. "Humour me, gwador." And with that, he wrapped his strong arms around the other and gave him a deep, slow, lingering kiss.

Lindir quickened his steps as he saw Haldir's arms encircle the other lf. I cannot believe Haldir is doing this, he thought, right in the middle of the market. That black-haired raven has somehow bewitched the marchwarden. Stepping up behind the tall elf, Lindir grasped him by the shoulder and in a loud voice asked the other what he thought he was doing. The elf turned around slowly and dark eyes swept Lindir from the tip of his boots to the top of his moon-white hair.

Lindir stepped back in complete shock. "Lord Erestor!" He gasped. "I...."

At this, both Haldir and Erestor doubled over with laughter. Haldir had just managed to bring himself under control when he took another look at Lindir's face and broke into laughter again. Poor Lindir! His eyes were as wide as saucers and his face as red as a sugar beet. He stammered and stuttered as he tried to apologize to the dark-haired lord. Erestor meanwhile, could not stop laughing nor manage to catch his breath. When Lindir finally realized it had all been a joke, the red of embarrassment quickly turned to that of anger.

"Haldir, how could you do that to me! Surely you had no time to set that up." Lindir's voice trailed off when he noticed the tears running down Erestor's cheeks. The elf lord was still desperately trying to regain his breath. The start of a smile appeared on Lindir's face and soon he was laughing along with the other two.

It took a moment, but they managed to bring their breathing back under control. The crowd, which had begun to gather around the trio, soon went back to their business once they realized nothing exciting was going to come of the three's actions. "Shopping for a special gift?" Erestor asked, smiling knowingly at Lindir.

"Aye, Erestor," Lindir replied. "You had best walk with us. Haldir and I have quite a bit to fill you in on. Much has happened since our talk. And with that, the three began a slow walk down the path, Lindir and Haldir telling Erestor all about the latest blossoming of love in Imladris.

-Rescue

Glorfindel continued his chanting. Blood flowed freely from the wounds in his thigh and arm, but he could not take the time to bind them. He felt himself grow weaker by the moment, but grit his teeth and continued his silent chant, fighting desperately to keep a clear head.

Moments passed that seemed like days yet still the attackers held back, although he could hear their muttering as they laid out their plans. The golden glow began to weaken and the men looked to their leader as to when to begin their move.

The lone warrior on the proud white horse continued to fight a losing battle with time. Each moment that passed found him closer to losing himself to the blackness. As his mind began to stumble on some of the ancient lines, the glow began to diminish greatly and the men watched their leader's hand for the signal to attack. Glorfindel slumped forward on Asfaloth's back just as the men made their move and a barrage of red and brown fletched arrows flew through the air.

1\. elleths - elf maidens  
2\. ellon - elf (male)  
3\. elleth - elf maid  
4\. gwador - brother (sworn brother)  
5\. Nanarad agevedim, Celeng. - Until we next meet, Celeng. (not attested)  
6\. Nan lû sen, Haldir, Lindir. - Until then, Haldir, Lindir.  
7\. Nan lû sen. - Until then.  
8\. pen velui - lovely one.


	18. Discord

Erestor had returned to his rooms to bathe and change after his time spent at the market with Lindir and Haldir. Now the hem of his black robe of office flared out behind him as he hurried down the corridor with an intent purpose. His mind was awash with all that the two elves had said and although he hated his errand, it was one he could not put off.

Crossing through the gardens, Erestor headed down the path toward the healing house, for he knew his lord was still holding vigil over Tebring and he believed that Elrond would stay with the guardian until his condition changed for the better or the Valar forbid, deteriorated to the point of no return. Such a sad thing to happen to one so vibrant and full of life, Erestor thought, for he liked Tebring and he hoped the young guardian could overcome his depression and find a way back to the light.

As Erestor entered the building through the wide archway and headed for Tebring's room, he saw Elrond standing in the main hall talking to Tambor and Garion. He waited until Elrond had finished his conversation then hurried to his side and lightly touched his arm.

"My lord, I must speak with you for a moment in private. I would not interrupt, but the matter is of extreme importantance."

Elrond bade leave of Tambor and Garion, then turned to Erestor and led him into one of the unused rooms. "No one will disturb us here."

Erestor sighed. He hated to burden Elrond with more problems for he could see how the past few days had affected his lord, but this was a matter of grave importance. Gesturing for Elrond to take a seat on the bed, Erestor waited for Elrond to do so then moved to stand in front of him.

"Lord Glorfindel may bind himself with Lindir," Erestor said, watching Elrond closely to see how he would take the news.

Elrond's face darkened with anger. "Has Glorfindel no concern for Lindir at all? He knows what this could do to Lindir! Why, after keeping his love silent for all these years, does Glorfindel choose now to reveal it? Curses, Erestor! I could wring the fool's neck. Send Glorfindel in to see me the moment he returns. I should still be here."

"I shall do so as soon as I find him," Erestor said, turning from Lord Elrond and moving toward the door.

"And, Erestor," Elrond said as Erestor paused to look back. "Keep Lindir away from here until I have spoken with Glorfindel. I do not wish him anywhere near the Healing House until this is resolved."

"I understand, my lord," Erestor replied, "I will keep Lindir occupied until I hear from you."

Erestor left the room and leaned against the wall of the corridor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I had to do it," he thought to himself. "I did not want to betray Glorfindel, but I cannot stand by and watch him harm Lindir. Elbereth, forgive me for what I have done." He took another deep breath to calm his beating heart then hurried from the Healing House in search of Glorfindel.

-The Prisoner

Glorfindel was barely conscious when he felt someone leap onto Asfaloth's back. Strong arms clasped him around the waist as the proud war-horse was urged to move quickly away from the escalating attack. Realizing the arms belonged to a friend, Glorfindel relaxed and succumbed to the darkness.

A while later, a whiff of strong smelling salts brought Glorfindel back to consciousness. He was resting against the trunk of a wide tree, a healer hovering on one side and Captain Naldor, his second-in-command on the other. "Calimal and Neldur made it back safely." Captain Naldor told Glorfindel once he was sure his commander was alert enough to understand his words. "We were able to subdue all of the force that attacked. Most of them are dead or vanquished. We were lucky this time, for we captured their leader."

Glorfindel listened attentively to everything the captain said, then answered in a low, raspy voice. "They were not rabble. They were well-trained and knew how to fight against Elves. I would like to interrogate the man who led them. Place him in a cell and hold him until further orders. I will be there as soon as I gain my strength."

"I beg your pardon, my lord," the healer spoke, "But the only place you are going is to the Healing House. Your injuries are too great for you to be walking about. A litter is being readied this moment, and will we take you there as soon as Captain Naldor finishes his report."

Angry blue eyes turned toward the healer and Glorfindel issued a string of curses that caused the elf to blanch. Glorfindel tried to rise to continue his tirade and prove his point, but a wave of pain and weakness caused him to grit his teeth and fall back against the tree. Captain Naldor reached out a hand to steady him.

"The healer is right, my lord. As soon as we have finished here, I will interrogate the prisoner myself. You can speak with him after Master Anaran attends your wounds. However, I would tell you this. The one that created the false blood trail, that led you into the ambush, he is the one we captured, he is their leader. I understand now why these men were so hard to fight, why they were able to penetrate our defences. The one that led them is peredhel, but he has not aligned himself with our kind. He keeps the company of Men."

"All the more reason that I wish to question him," Glorfindel ground out. "I want to know his motives for planning this attack. Keep me informed, Captain. That knife he threw was of elven make and I felt there was something odd about the trap we found ourselves in. Send me your report as soon as you finish here then meet with the other unit leaders and apprise them of the situation."

The effort of talking and staying alert had taken its toll on the ancient warrior. The healer, who had been watching him closely, signaled to Captain Naldor that Glorfindel had had enough. He beckoned for the litter-bearers to come forward. As carefully as they could, they placed Glorfindel on the litter then hurriedly set off through the woods toward the Healing House.

-Back at the Last Homely House

"Haldir, I am worried," Lindir confided to his friend. "It is long past the time that Glorfindel should have returned. I wish to check the stables again to see if he is there."

"I will accompany you, Lindir," Haldir replied. Haldir was also worried, for Glorfindel normally reported in, but none of the guardians Haldir had spoken with had seen him. But what truly had Haldir concerned, was that none of the morning patrol had returned. Lindir was not a fool; Haldir knew the same thoughts had crossed his mind.

On their return from the market, Lindir had become decidedly animated. Haldir knew it was the anticipation of seeing his lover that had Lindir acting so out of character. But when Lindir had found his and Glorfindel's rooms empty, the giddiness had turned to anxiety. They had asked all they saw, but none had seen the seneschal. For the past quarter hour, Lindir had been pacing back and forth, unwilling to voice his fears, but expressing them through the motions of his body.

Now that a course of action had been decided, Haldir and Lindir set off briskly towards the wooden structure that housed the horses. They were within shouting distance of the barn, when they met up with Erestor and Celeng. Both looked concerned, and it was easy to see that the absence of the patrol was what caused their disquiet.

Erestor and Lindir started to speak at the same time. Lindir deferred to his elder, but the advisor voiced the words Lindir had been about to utter. "Have either of you seen Lord Glorfindel?"

"No, Erestor, we have not, and were on our way to the stables to look for him," Haldir replied before Lindir had a chance to speak. He was about to say more, when the distinct sound of hooves thudding against earth caused all four elves to turn towards the path that led to the woods. Two guardians were riding hard towards the stables. When they reached the stable yard both dismounted, and the eldest quickly walked over to Erestor.

"My lord," the guardian bowed his head in respect. "Lord Glorfindel, Calimal, and Neldur rode into a trap this afternoon. Glorfindel was able to hold the attackers long enough to enable Calimal and Neldur to escape, but was injured before reinforcements could arrive. The attack was routed and the leader captured. I was told to give my report to Lord Elrond. If you could direct me to him, I will do so now."

"He is at the Healing House attending Tebring," Erestor replied quickly. "Tell me, what is Glorfindel's condition?"

"I know not, my lord," the guardian replied. "He was unconscious the last I saw him and the healer was assessing his wounds. There are others on horse behind me, you will have to wait and ask them for more news."

"Go now and find Lord Elrond," Erestor told the messenger, "We will wait for the others.

The messenger bowed his head again then left with his partner, heading for the Healing quarters.

As soon as the messengers had gone, Erestor, Haldir, and Celeng turned to Lindir. The minstrel's face was pale. Tears were in his eyes as he prayed to the Valar for his lover. The other three could do naught but comfort him, as they waited for the rest of the patrol to arrive.

-The Healing House

"Elrond, why not return to your chambers and rest?" Master Anaran directed his question to his weary lord as they were working at the table in the herb room. "Miradhel and I can watch Tebring. I do not believe his condition will change in the next few hours, and you can not continue to push yourself as you are."

"It would be of no use," Elrond replied, "I cannot sleep. Tebring preys on my mind, but there is more. If we lose Tebring, we also lose Tambor.

Elrond sighed. "Anaran, do you remember Celeng, our old arms master? He sought me earlier asking my permission to speak with Tebring. I was against the idea, but now I wonder if I should reverse my decision. I do not wish to push Tebring over the edge, but neither can I sit by idly and watch him enter Mandos' Halls without a fight." Elrond reached toward one of the shelves for a mortar and pestle then began crushing the dried leaves that lay in a pile in front of him.

"If I remember correctly, it was Lord Glorfindel who drummed sense into Celeng after the stallion destroyed his foot," Anaran mused, "It could be that the same would work with Tebring.

"He comes from a long line of warriors. You would think that would make him more aware of the danger of permanent injury. He blames himself for his condition, Elrond. He believes that he should have seen the blow that shattered his leg, that he should have been quick enough to block it. In his eyes, he is a failure at the one duty he has dreamt of since he was old enough to pick up a bow. Tebring never thought to be other than a guardian.

"This morning, I had to carry him to the bath. Tebring was mortified. That is the only time I have heard him speak more than a syllable since first he awoke. He said he could not see Tambor carrying him every time he had to perform a bodily function. It heartened me to see him speak of Tambor but then afterward, he sank further into depression."

Lord Elrond was about to reply, when Garion knocked on the door. "My lord, there are messengers here from the morning patrol. Glorfindel's unit was attacked and he was severely injured. They are bearing him in on a litter, but the extent of his injury is not known. Do you wish to speak with the messengers now?"

Elrond groaned. "Please, Garion, send them in." Elrond turned back to the healer. "By the stars, Anaran, this is supposed to be a time of peace!"

At the sound of a slight cough, Elrond looked up and saw two young guardians waiting in the doorway. Rising to his feet, he motioned them to come inside.

-The Stables

The four elves did not have much longer to wait before the sound of hooves informed them more of the patrol was exiting the woods. Sure enough, five warriors on horseback urged their horses into a canter once they reached the meadow adjacent to the stables. They did not seem surprised to see Erestor and his friends waiting for their arrival. While the stable lads looked to their mounts, Erestor questioned the riders as to the condition of Glorfindel and what exactly had occurred during the fray.

Satisfied that Glorfindel was not mortally wounded, Erestor was able to relay the good news to Lindir and the others. He dismissed the guardians and sent Celeng back to the Healing House to speak with Tambor and Garion. Haldir, Lindir and himself would wait until they knew for sure that Glorfindel was out of danger.

More riders were coming in as the others left and each was able to give Erestor a bit more news about Glorfindel and the ambush. He was told that the leader had been taken prisoner and that Glorfindel had been conscious when the riders left and had been given a draught for pain.

Finally, a group bearing a litter could be seen at the edge of the forest. Lindir could not stand the wait and ran ahead to catch up with the guards who were carrying his lover. He was able to hear the curses erupting from the mouth of the great warrior before he finally reached his side.

Now that the pain in his leg and arm was bearable, Glorfindel himself was not. Never one to lie still and listen to the advice of the healers, the Balrog Slayer was already trying the patience of the guards who had the duty of carrying him.

Lindir spoke to one of them then replaced him as a bearer so he could be closer to his lover. "Glorfindel, are you in much pain?" he asked tenderly, looking down at Glorfindel's pale face as he bounced on the litter.

"Nay, Lindir, just aggravated at having to be carried like an invalid. I shall live. My injuries look worse than they are. It is the blood loss that has me weak. Master Anaran will sew my wounds and force some of that nasty tea down my throat. I will be up and around tomorrow. Glorfindel smiled at Lindir then his face scrunched into a scowl. "By the Stars, can you blasted guardians not keep my head higher than my feet! You shall all have double duty if you do not hurry. I am being bumped and jarred to death. I want off this blasted hammock."

The litter-bearers and Lindir just rolled their eyes, knowing their commander would not remain quiet until they reached their destination. Haldir and Erestor fell in step with the group once they reached the stables, and if nothing else, the presence of the marchwarden sobered the grumbling blond for a moment.

"Not your usual self today, are you?" Haldir asked as he gave his friend one of his well-known smirks. Now that he knew Glorfindel was not mortally injured, he did not mind teasing his friend. Glorfindel just gave him a "humph" in return.

"I have seen them carry you in worse than this, marchwarden," Glorfindel whispered through gritted teeth as the lead guardian stumbled on the pathway, giving him a painful jolt. A glance upward allowed Glorfindel to spy the black robes of Erestor. "Come to gloat, old bat?" he directed at the advisor. Erestor just raised an eyebrow and straightened to his full height, ignoring the blond's comment. "Not speaking today, I see," Glorfindel rattled on. "I had to do something to get your nose out of those old mouldy books. You need to lie in the sun, Erestor. You are beginning to look like biscuit dough, pasty and soft. You are out of shape, mellonen (1), I can hear you huffing and puffing and you have not walked but a few paces. You are not going to worm your way into Elrond's heart if you look like a dumpling. You need exercise. Pulling books off the shelves will not remove that stomach. I saw you the other day in the bath."

"Glorfindel!" Lindir was shocked at the behaviour of the warrior and his treatment of Erestor. The poor advisor had turned a slight shade of pink at the mention of Lord Elrond and the guardians were doing their best to carefully control their expressions as Glorfindel rambled on and on.

"Well, it is true." Glorfindel retorted.

He was about to say more, when a large hand reached down and covered his mouth. Glorfindel looked up into the hazel eyes of Haldir, who just shook his head and put a finger to his lips. "You had best silence your thoughts, gwador. When you come to your senses you may regret your words."

Turning to Erestor, Haldir spoke softly. "The draught they gave him for pain makes him somewhat loquacious. Do not pay attention to what he says."

"I never do," Erestor said with a sigh. "This is a tiring game Glorfindel likes to play. I cannot imagine what delight he finds in it. You would think one who has lived as long as he would act like an elf instead of an elfling."

"There is more life in me than in a thousand of you, Erestor." The voice of Glorfindel carried up from the stretcher.

"You may save your insulting remarks for Lord Elrond, Seneschal," Erestor said, giving the warrior a disdainful look, "we have arrived at our destination."

"That is correct, Glorfindel, you may now direct your comments to me," a new voice spoke from behind Glorfindel's head. "Take him into the first room," Lord Elrond said with the voice of one who would brook no complaint. "And if he cannot hold his tongue, tell Master Anaran to withhold the draught for pain while he sews up those wounds."

"Erestor," Elrond said, turning to his advisor, "we must talk."

While Lord Elrond led Erestor to another part of the Healing House, Haldir and Lindir settled down on the bench outside to wait for Master Anaran to finish attending to Glorfindel.

"Not exactly how you planned tonight's events, is it?" Haldir said, turning to look at Lindir, who was trying his best to hold back tears. "He will be fine, meldir (2). He just needs those deep cuts sewn and a night of healing rest."

"I understand that, Haldir," Lindir replied. "It was the waiting that brought me such anguish. Now that I know he will recover, I can deal with it. Thank you for staying by my side. You may leave now, if you wish."

"I prefer to stay, Lindir. Glorfindel is my friend. He may not acknowledge it, but he will appreciate our presence. You should try to rest. It will be a long night."

1\. mellonen - my friend  
2\. meldir - friend


	19. Dark Clouds

The view from the windows of the solarium was enough to take one's breath away, for watching over the Elven realm was a cloudless cerulean sky. Anor's rays, besides warming the fertile fields and the valley woodlands, wrought mysterious patterns of deep emerald and midnight blue on the carpet of tall fir that graced the sides of the steep cliffs. Here and there, bare rock contrasted against the soft green. Silvery-white water flowed down the grey surface as the run-off from swollen streams followed the pull of gravity to seek liquid pools of clear water below. The spray from the roaring falls was visible from as far away as the healing house, and the rainbows that filtered through the mist added a surreal quality to the stunning vision. But the two occupants of the cosy sunlit room were totally unaware of the beauty of nature or the ambience of the chamber, troubled as they were by the myriad events that threatened the peacefulness of Imladris.

"I am sorry, my lord," Erestor said to Elrond once the door to the solarium was closed and he was sure they were alone. "I could not find it in my heart to separate Lindir from Glorfindel once I found Glorfindel was injured."

Elrond sighed. "I understand, Erestor, but this does complicate matters."

In fact, this new problem was only one of many that burdened the Elven Lord. Humans had attacked his forces twice. First, a hoard of filthy bandits bent on nothing but greed and destruction, their folly leaving one of his guardians close to the doors of Mandos' Halls and second, a trained squadron headed by a half-elf with a heritage similar to his own, a blood mix of First and Secondborn. This usurper now sat chained in the dungeons of the Last Homely House while Elrond waited for his commanders to delve out the reason for the mortal's viscous attack. But the latest crack in the veil of tranquility that normally covered the mountain valley had taken him by surprise. Why would Glorfindel turn his back on a promise made specifically for the well being of an elf he so plainly cared for? Elrond could not begin to imagine.

"As soon as Glorfindel has re-gained his strength, I must speak with him and this time I do expect you to keep Lindir away." Elrond said as he turned around to face Erestor. Running his fingers through his hair, he voiced the thought that ran through both their minds. "What prompted Glorfindel to make this move? I thought we all agreed how to handle this a long time ago."

Erestor heaved a sigh, feeling guilty for betraying his friend but knowing he was unable to keep anything hidden from his Lord. "Glorfindel has always been a mystery to me. We are compatible, but only because I am willing to play his games. I consider him one of my closest friends, but he does not reveal his innermost self to anyone, except maybe Haldir and Haldir can be as enigmatic as Glorfindel. In fact, Haldir played a part in drawing them together.

"It all started with Haldir's story about the gift giving. I should not reveal this, but Lindir chose Glorfindel's name and came to me for advice concerning a gift. He was extremely distraught, so much that he was having problems sleeping. At first I thought his concern was that Glorfindel was his superior, but nay, it was worse. Lindir has always idolized Glorfindel, and at some point his feelings crossed the border between hero worship and love. I mistakenly took it for infatuation, never dreaming Lindir would act on his desire. Believing I was doing him a favour, I advised him to speak with Haldir.

"What it is about Haldir that makes everyone wish to confide in him, I know not, but Lindir revealed his feelings about Glorfindel to the marchwarden, and Haldir took it upon himself to play matchmaker. The result is that Glorfindel spent last night in Lindir's room and their interaction was not of a platonic nature."

"So it has gone that far." Elrond said with a frown. "Lindir confirms the binding?"

"No," Erestor replied, "That is conjecture on my part. Glorfindel would not take a lover lightly. In fact, in my memory he has never had a serious romantic interest. But according to both Haldir and Lindir, he has declared his eternal love for Lindir. Glorfindel would never jest about such a matter."

"Then the relationship has not progressed as far as I thought. I will speak with Glorfindel and if he does not heed my warning, I may be forced to send him away from Imladris, at least for a time. They cannot bind, Erestor. If they do, Lindir will know all there is of Glorfindel's mind. He will find out that which we have hidden from him all these years and he may never recover from that knowledge. It is still hard for me to understand why, if Glorfindel loves Lindir, he would place him at such risk?"

"I know not, my lord," Erestor replied. That is why I came to you as soon as I could."

Elrond struggled with the temptation to run down the hall and throttle his seneschal. "It is the will of the Valar that two minds merge during a bonding. Erestor, there is no way Glorfindel can thwart that. While I feel for Lindir, I will do all in my power to see that this relationship goes no further. I know Glorfindel is your friend, I hope you can understand why I need take these desperate measures."

"Even if I say I do, my lord," Erestor said slowly, "It does not reduce my feeling of guilt. Glorfindel, perhaps, may understand your reaction but young Lindir will not and he will be crushed. But better that, I suppose, than to have him fade as Tebring."

Elrond grimaced at the thought. "Unfortunately, I do not have any more time to spend on this, Erestor, for I must also speak with Celeng. Grant me a few minutes alone, then bid him to enter, if he is still outside."

"As you wish, my lord," Erestor said, an ache beginning to build in his stomach. "With your permission, I will take my leave." At a nod from Elrond, Erestor turned and walked to the door, leaving his lord sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. Erestor hated to walk out on him in that condition, but he knew there was nothing he could do to ease his mind. Squaring his shoulders and feeling like a traitor, he opened the door and left the room.

In spite of the furor that had taken place not so long ago, the atmosphere about the main hall of the Healing House was that of serene quiet. No one spoke above a whisper and the stillness only added to the feeling of despair that cloaked many of the elves who sat or stood within its confines.

While Erestor spoke with Celeng, Master Anaran did the same with Lindir and Haldir, the circles under the healer's eyes attesting to his long hours and lack of sleep. "Glorfindel has two deep gashes, one on his forearm and the other on his thigh. I have stitched and bound the wounds and his natural healing abilities should take care of the rest. The loss of blood and the energy he used to hold back the attacking men made him weak enough to lose consciousness, making his injury seem worse than it is.

"I will try to make him rest in bed, but I know Glorfindel and it will not be an easy task. You may see him now. I have left a draught for pain on the table by the side of the bed. It will make him drowsy, so you may wish to give it to him after your visit, unless he asks for it sooner.

"As for Tebring, his physical injury is healing well but his mental condition has not changed. If anything, he is drifting farther away. I have done everything I can for Tebring, now the only option I have is to make him as comfortable as possible."

"My thanks, Master Anaran," said Lindir. "I did not expect there would be any change, but I appreciate your effort to keep us informed."

The healer smiled and gave Lindir a pat on the shoulder. "You had best see to Glorfindel now, he was asking for you and will not be awake long." Master Anaran nodded at Haldir. "Marchwarden, I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit here. Now, if you both will excuse me, I will return to my tasks."

Haldir turned to Lindir and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "If you wish, Lindir, I will wait outside."

"Nay, Haldir. I believe Glorfindel would wish to see both of us. Let us go in now while he is still awake."

Sky-blue eyes followed the pair as they entered the chamber. Glorfindel was lying on his back in the bed. His glorious hair, now removed from its braid, spread over the pillow falling in golden rivulets to the sheet below. His bandaged arm was resting outside the covers and his uninjured leg propped underneath the light sheet. Apparently, the medication the healers had given him originally was beginning to wear off, because the once garrulous blond was now quiet and subdued, his face pale and drawn, with an expression of pain glazing the surface of his eyes.

"How do you fare?" Lindir asked. "You had me worried, melethen (1). When the patrol did not return, I thought the worst."

"I am fine, Lindir, just tired. I have had much worse injury. What I need is simply a night of healing rest."

Glorfindel in actuality felt quite awful, although in his pride, he would never admit it. The loss of blood, the mental energy he had used to bring forth his power combined with the after effect of the narcotic, had left him weak and slightly nauseous. He remained quiet as he studied his lover, the only sound in the room that of his breath going in and out of his lungs. Lindir looked almost as bad as Glorfindel felt. The young elf had much sorrow in his eyes, and his face was a shade or two lighter than its normal pearly hue. Glorfindel could read Lindir's solemn expression, and knew the report of his injury had caused young Lindir a fright. Glorfindel knew Lindir planned to stay by his side and nurse him throughout the night, but that, the warrior thought, was not going to happen.

While Glorfindel wanted nothing more than to take Lindir in his arms and murmur words of love and reassurance, it was not what Lindir needed. He knew Lindir had not had much love in his young life, and Glorfindel was ready and willing to give him all he had, but he did not want Lindir to become too dependent upon him. The elf suffered from an extreme lack of confidence, and pampering him in that way would only make the condition worse. Glorfindel was determined to bring the young one out of his shell, but he was going to have to hurt him to do it.

"Lindir, before our relationship proceeds any farther, we must reach an understanding. You cannot fret every time the patrol is late. Remember your training. The time to worry is when you are informed there is a problem. Otherwise, you lose control and make mistakes. This applies not just to warfare, but also to life. That we have declared our love does not change these rules. We are warriors, pen-neth (2). I am not looking for a wife; do not try to be one."

"Can I not be concerned about your welfare, Glorfindel? You are more to me than a comrade-in-arms. I have given you my heart," Lindir replied, hurt by Glorfindel's words.

"You misunderstand me, meleth (3). I am appreciative of your care, but do not place me in my grave before my time, before you know the facts. What could you have done before the messengers alerted you of the ambush? Not a thing. And when you did hear the news, could you have arrived in time to help? No. Those are the tasks of the sentries on duty. What if the patrol had been late for more mundane reasons? Not only would we both have been embarrassed by your anxiety, but also, your stress and fear would have been for naught.

"I need you to be strong, Lindir. If you are to fight by my side, I have to know that you will concentrate on none but the enemy. That you will trust in my skill to take care of myself as I will trust yours. That you will do the same whether I am on patrol or away on a mission, otherwise, we should end what we have between us now."

"I understand, my lord," Lindir answered in a low voice, his eyes pinned to the floor. Even though the words Glorfindel spoke made much sense and were said in a kind voice, it pained Lindir to hear them, especially since a rebuke was not what he had expected. "I can do what you ask of me."

Glorfindel winced at the hurt in Lindir's voice. "Come here, meleth," he said, holding out his hand. Lindir did so and grasped his hand tightly. Glorfindel motioned for him to take a seat by his side. Reaching upward, he traced his fingers down Lindir's cheek. "Do not be upset by my words, pen-neth. It gladdens my heart to see you here, to have you close. Melin chen (4), Lindir. I have said this to no other. You hold my heart in your hands.

"But, to again stress my point, you know the dangers and the possible risks we face each day. To fight, we must be strong, physically and emotionally. If we let our love make us weak, we lessen our chance of survival. This is all I am asking, Lindir. That we stick by the warrior's code, in life and in our love for each other."

"Melin chen (4), Glorfindel. I do not wish to think of losing you, for I have just found you, our time together is just beginning."

"I know pen-neth (2). But we can not go into this relationship blindly. If I hurt you, Lindir, know that I do so only out of my love for you. You are mine, Lindir, for always if you want me."

"You know I do, Glorfindel." Lindir spoke so softly that Glorfindel barely caught his words. Lindir's lower lip trembled and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes to keep others from following, tightening his grip on Glorfindel's hand. "I do not mean to weep, Glorfindel. In the future I promise to be stronger. I will do anything you ask of me, rather than risk losing your love."

"Ai, Lindir, again you misunderstand me." Glorfindel sighed. When I am stronger we will speak of this again. Know that whatever our problems, we can work them out. Learn to trust in me, Lindir. Learn to trust my love, but above all, learn to trust yourself. You have many fine attributes, have faith in them. You cannot gain the confidence of others until you have gained the same confidence in yourself. But we will work on this together, for as of this day, you are no longer alone."

Lindir took a deep breath and managed a smile for his lover. He needed to be strong if he wished to keep the warrior by his side. Glorfindel had a way of tearing down his defences. It was as if he could see into Lindir's very soul, and it was frightening. Lindir was not sure if he could measure up to the expectations of such a great lord. He wanted so much to believe in what Glorfindel said, but he still could not come to terms with the fact that an elf such as Glorfindel would have the slightest interest in an elf like him.

"Come now," Glorfindel said, giving Lindir a re-assuring smile. "If we keep on like this, we will embarrass the marchwarden." Releasing Lindir's hand, he turned to the silver-haired elf standing at Lindir's side. Glorfindel could see the amusement dancing in Haldir's eyes.

"Mae govannen, Haldir. Do not hang back; I would speak with you also."

Haldir stepped up to the bed and grasped Glorfindel's arm in a warrior's handshake. "I am glad to see you in one piece, meldir (5)."

"Aye, Haldir, I will be as new in but a short while, the more reason for both of you to rejoice, you especially, Lindir." Glorfindel grinned toothily at his love then turned back to Haldir with a more serious expression.

"I would ask another favour, Haldir."

Haldir nodded. "How may I be of service?" he replied.

"My guardians captured the leader of the men that ambushed us. He is peredhel. Captain Naldor had him placed in chains and brought to a cell. He is on his way to interrogate him as of now. I would ask that you be present also. I could use your thoughts and insight. You have seen much of the way of men, and this rogue has teemed himself with them. Captain Naldor speaks the language of the Secondborn, but has not much experience amongst their kind. He would be appreciative of your aid."

"You have but to ask, gwador (6). I will leave immediately," Haldir replied.

"My thanks, Haldir, I am in your debt," Glorfindel spoke with sincerity. "I will meet with you in the morning, if that is convenient."

"Until then," Haldir responded with a nod. Then turning towards the door, he made a swift exit.

Once Haldir had gone, Glorfindel turned back to Lindir. "Melethen, I have a favour to ask of you also. You will not like it, but I ask it all the same. I wish you to return to The Last Homely House and find something to occupy your time. Do not think I will let you sit here by my side all night. I am going to drink that which Master Anaran left. It will induce a healing sleep. My body needs it, Lindir. There is naught you can do here. If you wish to please me, go seek Erestor. With Lord Elrond so occupied and myself injured, Erestor is forced to take on all our burdens. He needs you more than I tonight."

Lindir smiled. "Anything to make sure you follow Master Anaran's orders. I will leave as soon as you drink your tea. I have neglected Erestor this week and I feel guilt for that. He will find a task for me, I have no doubt."

Lindir picked up the cup from the small table and held it up to Glorfindel's lips. "I know you can handle this yourself, but let me do this one thing for you before I go."

Glorfindel smiled and obediently drank from Lindir's hand. When he had finished all that was in the cup, Lindir bent forward and placed a soft kiss on his lover's lips. Glorfindel deepened it, and the two were locked together in the passionate kiss for some moment. When they finally broke apart, Lindir wished Glorfindel a good night then reluctantly left the room. Glorfindel's eyes were already heavy from the effects of the hot liquid, which had started to work almost immediately. Before Lindir made it into the hall, the warrior was lost in a deep healing sleep.

The smile left Lindir's face as soon as he exited the room. He had done his best to appear in good spirits when Glorfindel asked him to leave, but it had all been an act. Glorfindel's words had stung. Only last night he had welcomed Lindir with open arms and this night he did everything he could to push Lindir away. I will not lose him so soon, Lindir vowed. If I have to submit to his every whim to keep him happy, I will. And with that firm resolve, Lindir left to find Erestor.

"How does Glorfindel fare?" Lord Erestor asked, once Lindir had located the advisor. "I would have thought you would still be at his side, Lindir."

"He is well, my lord. He asked me not to stay, but to help you instead, for he feels guilty that you must handle everything alone." Erestor did look quite harried, Lindir realized. Maybe Glorfindel was right. There was truly nothing he could do for Glorfindel while his lover slept. But there should be plenty he could do to help Erestor.

Erestor gave Lindir a quick appraisal. "I hate to put you to work on your holiday, Lindir, but there is a job you could do for me. I was copying scrolls this morning and with all the uproar, they are still laid out on the main table in the library. Some are quite old and should be placed back in their protective coverings. If you could do that for me, I would be extremely grateful. If you need another task to occupy your time, there are three crates of Lord Elrond's that I had removed from the attic sitting on the floor of my office. I am not sure what they contain, but if you would go through the contents and make a catalogue, that would free more of my time. If you cannot, do not worry. I ask that only if your concern for Glorfindel does not allow sleep. Otherwise, Lindir, make sure you eat and rest. I know this day has been a hard one."

"I will do as much as I can, Erestor. If I can help in any other way, do not hesitate to tell me." Lindir replied.

Erestor was about to make a comment when Master Anaran called to him from the adjacent room. "I must go, Lindir. Thank you for your offer of help. I will see you in the morning, if not before." And with that Erestor hurried off to see what the healer wanted, while Lindir made his way to the library.

Lord Elrond was with Master Anaran when Erestor walked into the room. If anything, his lord looked more exhausted than he did when Erestor had spoken with him earlier.

"Erestor, I have met with Master Anaran and with Celeng, and have given my permission for Celeng to speak with Tebring tomorrow. I asked only that he talk with Glorfindel first. If the two of them cannot sway Tebring's mind, I am afraid there is no hope. Tebring's condition degrades with each passing hour.

"We have a problem in that Lindir expects to meet with Glorfindel in the morning and so do Haldir and Captain Naldor. Glorfindel asked Haldir to help the Captain interrogate the prisoner, and they will wish to give him their report. I am assuming that Lindir will arrive early. If he does so, will you occupy him until Haldir comes? Preferably find a task that will keep him away from the Healing House until you hear from me. As soon as I finish my talk with Glorfindel, I will send Celeng in to see him. That should place Glorfindel's mind on Tebring and take the heat out of his anger, for he will not take my words lightly. In fact, there is a good chance, Erestor, that we may have chaos reign here tomorrow, so be prepared."

"I will help in any way I can, my Lord," Erestor promised. Realizing it was getting close to the dinner hour, Erestor mentally added a trip to the kitchen to his checklist. "If you like, I will have a tray prepared in the kitchen and brought to you here. Have you eaten at all today?"

"Do not worry, Erestor," Master Anaran spoke up. "Miradhel and I have made sure Lord Elrond is well fed and I will also make sure he rests well tonight. We will take care of the problems on our end as best we can."

"Thank you, Erestor," Elrond replied. "You may return to the house. I trust in you to make sure all is well."

"As you wish, My Lord," Erestor said, giving his lord a small bow. I will keep an eye on Lindir, and will check on the twins as well." With a nod to both elves, he took his leave.

As the last rays of Anor sank beneath the horizon, so did the hopes of many in the Healing House. Tambor and Garion still kept their watch outside the room of Tebring, and Lord Elrond and Master Anaran placed their eye on the hourglass, watching as the grains of sand marked passage of the time that slipped so swiftly away. Tebring and Glorfindel slumbered unaware of the grief and sadness that wrapped the inhabitants of Imladris in its numbing grip. And in the confines of The Last Homely house, there were others who would find restless sleep this night, for grey clouds of trouble hovered in the air and no one knew what the dawn would bring.

1\. melethen - my love  
2\. pen-neth - young one  
3\. meleth - love  
4\. melin chen - I love you  
5\. meldir - friend  
6\. gwador - sworn brother


	20. The Library and the Prisoner

Luckily, there was no one in the library when Lindir entered and the scrolls that Erestor had been working on were in their place and untouched. It did not take Lindir long to wrap them in protective covers and store them away.

The library was among the few places in Imladris where Lindir felt truly comfortable. Perhaps it was the sense of seclusion he had when settled in a comfortable chair beside a lovely potted fern or the restful atmosphere that always pervaded the large room. In any case, the books and tomes were as familiar to him as the strings of his favorite harp and among their pages, he found many friends. It had been a dear place to him even before he started work as Erestor's assistant; its comforting confines calling out to the young Elf who spent much of his time alone.

Floor to ceiling bookcases lined one half of the great room, the contents of their shelves exuding a familiar scent of ink and aged parchment. Two wide ladders set into tracks allowed easy access to those volumes beyond arms reach. In front of the U-shaped book-filled walls, freestanding bookcases marched across the floor like soldiers on parade. The dark stained wood, of which they all were built, was highly lacquered and polished daily to a brilliant sheen. Each book, manuscript and scroll was sorted and indexed in a precise manner consistent with a successful method Erestor had adopted in Lindon long ago.

In the central part of the room sat four wooden tables with straight-backed chairs, and two small desks. Centered on two of the tables were clay jars containing the tools the scholars used in their repair and maintenance of the library's precious content. Immense bronze chandeliers hung from the curved ceiling, their scrolled arms the home of numerous candles that provided plenty of light for work and reading.

Directly opposite the tables was a comfortable area designed for those who wished to read or relax. It centered on the far wall, where two large stone hearths became the focal point for an arrangement of divans, over-stuffed chairs and small tables. Artfully placed potted plants provided color and ambience, while paintings and tapestries depicting various scenes of history and famous personages graced the chamber's walls. A series of curtained archways lined the outside wall, deep enough that velvet cushioned benches could be set against their sides. During the day, sunlight streamed into the room giving the large chamber a bright cheeriness, where gentle breezes brought in the soothing scent of the outdoors. At sun's set, the curtains were drawn and the soft glow of candles reflected off the surfaces of polished wood. It was a favorite haunt after dinner for those who did not wish to spend their time in the Hall of Fire, for there were usually always a few Elves gathered near the hearths reading, drinking wine, or playing a quiet game of chess.

But tonight, Lindir could not find peace in the silent room. Still edgy and restless from all that had happened, he opted instead for a visit to the bathhouse. A warm soak should help him relax. He would then grab a quick bite to eat and be ready to start cataloging the items in the crates from the attic.

While Lindir was soaking in the warm waters of the bath, Haldir was fulfilling his promise to Lord Glorfindel. He asked one of the Imladris sentries to direct him to the lower chambers of The Last Homely House, that which held the cells where miscreants and worse were incarcerated for wrongdoing.

Following the guard down a series of stairs, they soon reached a narrow corridor where Haldir was led to the entrance of the cell where the prisoner was kept. Captain Naldor and two other guardians in his company greeted the Warden with military briskness and formality.

"Marchwarden," Captain Naldor nodded at the Elf from Lothlórien, "I appreciate your help and am ready to fill you in on what we have learned. The Half-elf is quite talkative, although not about that which we wish to know. Instead, he favors insults and barbs at our kind, for he does not associate himself at all with the Firstborn. If you would like to speak with him now, I will accompany you into the cell."

"Lead the way, Captain," Haldir said to the dark-haired Noldor who was Glorfindel's second-in-command. Another guardian produced a set of keys and unlocked the heavy door that allowed entrance into the chamber. Captain Naldor went in first, followed by Haldir and the Captain's adjutant who was carrying a large torch.

The flickering light of the torch outlined the features of the room's occupant in an orange glow. He was seated on a bench against the stone wall, wrists and ankles manacled as to limit movement. Golden hair framed a face that was fine boned and fair and the tips of pointed ears peaked through golden locks that were clean, but mussed and tangled. The prisoner's body was slim, lithe and long, his Elven heritage apparent in his every movement. Only his eyes reflected his mixed blood, for they had the particular round shape of mankind, not the graceful slant of the Firstborn. Though their color was a lovely shade of gray-blue, there was no warmth in their depths. Instead, they were as icy cold as the glaciers of the north, reflecting a deep-seated hatred that was directed at the officers standing before him.

Captain Naldor broke the silence first. "This is Marchwarden Haldir, from the Elven realm of Lothlórien, ruled by the Lord Celeborn and the Lady of Light, Galadriel. He speaks the language of Men and is here to ask you more questions."

The Half-elf made no acknowledgement of the words that were addressed to him. Instead, he stared at the Marchwarden with much malice, a slight sneer on his ruby lips.

"It is a common courtesy to answer when addressed," Haldir said in a formal tone. "It seems in your plight you have forgotten your manners."

"Fine words coming from an Elf who by parentage is of the working class of Caras Galadhon." the Half-elf spoke in perfect Sindarin. "Think I know nothing of your Golden Woods and your Lord and Lady? They, who sit in the Heart of Elvendom and consider themselves the fairest of all kind? Were it not for the ring on your Lady's finger your woods would be consumed with darkness and your precious Mellryn trees would dwindle and die. As it is, your time on Arda is fast coming to an end. What right have you to put your kind on a pedestal and laugh at the acts of Men? We who will soon rule the world?" The Half-elf spat the words at the Marchwarden.

"Who are you and why did you set ambush to Imladris patrols?" Haldir asked next, ignoring the insult that the brazen figure on the bench directed at him. "What did you hope to gain from your madness?"

"Do you think me mad, Marchwarden? With my hands on Imladris, I would be in good position to attack both Mirkwood and Lothlórien. Even though I failed, my kind will still control these lands, and soon."

"It was folly to attempt such a coup. Did you believe a few men trained in Elven warfare could overtake the forces of Imladris? Overtake Elven warriors?" Haldir asked, a look of amused disbelief on his face.

At his words, the Half-elf could hardly control his anger. "If it had not been for the Balrog Slayer and his Maiar powers, it would be Lord Elrond in this cell instead of me. Damn the elf! How was I to know that Glorfindel of Rivendell was the same as the famed Glorfindel of Gondolin. No Elf has ever returned to Arda from Mandos' Halls."

"For one of the race of Men as you so ardently claim you are, your knowledge of Elven history is not lacking. Obviously you have lived awhile amongst our kind. What turned you then from your Elven heritage? What caused you to embrace the ways of Men?" Haldir asked, not so much from a military need to know but from his own curiosity.

"Odd that you should ask that question, gwador (1)," the Half-elf said with a sneer, "You who have the features of the race you think so beneath you. Is it not odd that it is my face, not yours, that has the fine and delicate bones of the Firstborn. Admit it, gwador, I am much prettier than you!" The blond Half-elf laughed as he saw he had touched a nerve with the large Lórien Elf.

"Aye, I have lived among your kind and they are not as noble and pure as you claim them to be. You see some of it yourself, gwador, as I saw the hurt in your eyes when I mentioned your looks. There are those among you who think your blood is not so pure as you claim. But they can only speak this behind your back.

"Imagine then, growing up knowing that your blood was stained, knowing that no matter what you did you could never fit in. I was jeered and laughed at because I knew not my father's name, ostracized by my kind and pure Elven peers. My mother was taken by a human male, yet was she given succor by her kind? Nay, she was scorned and so was her spawn as they called me. Soon after my birth she faded and I was left alone. But none of your kind cared.

"Do you know of me, Haldir? I grew up in your Golden Woods, but no, I see my face is not familiar to you. Low as your status was on the ladder, mine was at the bottom. Your like would not concede to give me the time of day.

"After too many years of being an object of contempt, I left and after much misery discovered that men thought I was beautiful. Whereas no Elf would touch me, men fought over me, died over the chance to feel my caress, run their hands through my golden hair. They showered me with rich garments and treasures I dared not even dream of. And you ask why I forsake my Elven kin? Hah, would that they all rot in the pits of Mordor!"

That the Half-elf was bitter was obvious. Haldir's stolid face gave away no emotion at the other's words but a tiny voice inside whispered in his mind that he, too, had felt some of the pain that the prisoner had endured. There were those that whispered of his heritage and his looks, so different from those of his fine boned brothers, and Haldir was quite aware of it. But, any pity he felt for the other was wiped away when he remembered the purpose of the Half-elf's confinement, and thought of the Seneschal lying in the Healing House with multiple wounds.

"If you have dwelt among the Elves, then you know the penalty for kin-slaying. That you did not fulfill your intent lessens the charge but little. It seems ironic that your victim and intended victim will be among those who decide your fate. That you claim to be of men changes not the verdict either, for in spite of your wish, your heritage is Elven. I would pity you for your early life, were it not for your actions this day. You alone have decided your fate and now you must live with the consequences. Do not expect any quarter, for none shall be given."

The prisoner's answer was to spit at the Marchwarden and the Captain. "I will go to my grave with hatred in my heart then, Elf, and laughter at your pride. For it will not be ere long that men will walk the woods that you so prize and your kind, which you deem so fair, will be naught but memory. Build my pyre high, Sylvan, Noldo, for I will have the last laugh in the end. I will answer no more of your questions. I desire to sleep."

"Your chance to sleep is at the Captain's command, not yours, peredhel (2)," Haldir said curtly. "However, I have no further questions." Turning to the Captain, he motioned that he wished to leave. When he and the other officers had exited the cell, Haldir looked at Captain Naldor and sighed. "He has built his own tombstone. For that which he faults others, he practices himself. I think for now, we have learned all we can.

"I will go with you in the morning when you deliver your report to Lord Glorfindel. With your leave, I will retire and seek food and rest."

The Captain simply nodded his head and thanked the Marchwarden for his effort. Then bidding his sentries goodnight, he followed Haldir up the stairs. He too wished for nothing more than a hot meal and peaceful sleep.

Lindir felt much better after the bath and light supper, and he looked forward to the work Lord Erestor had left for him. Sorting through the crates from the attic was something they both enjoyed and usually a task they did together. For Lindir, it was almost like opening presents on begetting day, for one never knew what treasures might be found. One year, he and Erestor had unearthed a beautiful chess set, packed away ever so carefully. It had been a gift to Imladris from the High King Gil-galad and Lord Elrond had tears in his eyes when they showed it to him.

Over the centuries, many things had been packed away and placed in the attic. The problem was that no one knew anymore just exactly what was stored there. It had been Erestor's idea to sort through everything and catalogue it, but it was quite a daunting task. So he and Lindir decided to take it one step at a time. Every so often, they would carry down three or four crates and go through their contents. It would take a long time to finish this way, but it was not like it was top priority, and it provided a welcome respite from the daily routine.

Lindir picked up a wooden punch from Erestor's desk and knocked out the pins that held the lid of the first crate in place. Lifting the top completely off, he began to remove the contents from inside. The first item he picked up was wrapped in some kind of rough cloth. Carefully unrolling the fabric, he uncovered a small-carved box. He opened the top and peered inside. The box was empty. Labeling the sides and top of the crate with a number, he penned the same number on the parchment where he would record the contents. The first item he listed was a wooden trinket box. Wrapping the box back in the fabric, he reached for another fabric wrapped bundle.

By the time he had recorded and re-packed everything in the first crate, he was ready for a break. Most of the contents had been small knick-knacks, the type used as accessories in many of the guestrooms. He imagined they had all been boxed during a time of construction or remodeling, and perhaps other ornaments had been purchased to take their place. Whatever the reason, there was now a record of their existence on file.

He stood for a moment and stretched, then walked over to one of the arched windows and looked out at the stars. Forever after they would always have a special place in his heart, for it was under the starlight that he and Glorfindel had first made love. Sighing as he thought about the Seneschal spending the night in a bed in the Healing House, he made a quick appeal to the Lady of the Stars to watch over his love. Then returning to his task, he removed the lid from the second crate.

Upon discovering its contents, Lindir laughed with delight. The first object he removed was a simple wooden flute. He held it to his lips and blew a few notes. Not too bad, he thought. Turning the flute in his fingers, he looked for the runes he knew would be carved in the wood. He found them, but the initials were of no one he knew.

The next flute he picked up was of better craftsmanship. Testing it, he found it had a much better sound. Placing it to his lips, he played a simple tune. Looking at it closer, he found the creator had carved a running horse on its side. Underneath the horse was the carver's name. Lindir recognized it as a journeyman he used to train under. He was not surprised then at the workmanship, for the carver was a master flutist now.

Digging further into the crate, he pulled out more flutes until he came to one he was very familiar with. It was the first instrument he had ever made on his own, for this was obviously a crate that Lord Findal had placed in the attic. All the recorders were the creations of first year apprentice students. Lindir had always wondered what Lord Findal did with them. Delighted to have found his, he spent the next half-hour playing silly little tunes. He hoped he could talk his Master into letting him keep the one he had made, so he set it aside and began to record the others on the parchment.

Re-packing the second crate took quite some time, as Lindir could not resist trying out each flute he pulled from the box. Some sounded quite awful, but there were others that were a delight to play, and Lindir made note of their owners so he could tell them of his discovery.

He debated whether or not to tackle the third crate, but finally decided he would. But first, he headed back to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and some bread and cheese.

He had just returned and was opening the bottle, when Erestor stuck his head through the door.

"I heard music coming from here earlier, so I thought that must be you," Erestor remarked as he continued into the room, peeking at parchment on which Lindir had the items recorded. "I see you have made quite a bit of progress, in spite of the fact that you must have played every flute in the crate." Erestor chuckled. "If you offer me some wine, I will help with the last one."

"Are you sure, my Lord? I am supposed to be helping you, not you helping me," Lindir said with a smile. "You are most welcome to the wine, and I also have bread and cheese if you wish."

Erestor opened a cabinet in the room and took down two wineglasses. Reaching for the bottle, he poured two glassfuls, handing one to Lindir and keeping the other for himself. Then grabbing a piece of bread and a slice of cheese, he settled on the floor next to the third crate.

Lindir popped the lid on the crate and the two Elves looked at the contents. The top layer was a row of leather bound books. "No wonder it was so heavy," Erestor commented, "I thought I would never get it down the stairs."

Opening the first book in the row, Erestor read the title and author while Lindir recorded the information on the sheet of parchment. "These are some of the volumes that came from the library at Lindon," Erestor remarked. "I remember packing them myself. These should have been filed a long time ago. Let us get them recorded, and then we will restore them to the library shelves."

It was pleasant working with Erestor, and before long they were down to the last few books in the crate. "This is one you may wish to read, Lindir," Erestor said with a smile, as he handed Lindir a blue leather-bound book that was edged in gilt. Lindir glanced at the cover page. "Glorfindel of Gondolin", it read. The author's name was smudged and unreadable, so Lindir wrote "Unknown" besides that category on the parchment.

"Have you read it before, Lord Erestor?" Lindir asked.

"I have, Lindir, and I believe you will be surprised at its contents. Glorfindel does not talk much about his former life, but he has mentioned that this book is a fairly accurate representation of those days. Keep it, and read it at your leisure. It will help you understand some of Glorfindel's ways."

"I will start on it tonight," Lindir replied, holding on to the book as if it was a cherished possession. "Let us finish inventorying these last remaining tomes and then if you do not mind, I will take the book to my room."

By the time the two Elves had finished their second glass of wine, all the contents of the crates had been inventoried and recorded, and the books that were to be shelved were placed in stacks, ready to be carted to the library. Lindir bade Lord Erestor a good night and walked down the corridor to his room.

Changing into his nightshirt, Lindir crawled under the covers of his bed and propped himself up with pillows. Then reverently opening the blue book, he began to read about the Elf who had become such an important part of his life.

1\. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)  
2\. peredhel - Half-elven


	21. The Calm before the Storm

The rosy hues that announced the return of Anor painted the sky above the horizon with a pearlescent glow. Dew coated the grass and tender leaves of the flowering plants and the air had a certain moistness that signaled the arrival of a new day. A flock of Grackles noisily hunted with Starlings for morning insects amidst the fragrant plants in the herb gardens, disturbing the thoughts of the tousle-headed blond who stared out the windows of the solarium.

Never one to stay idle, Glorfindel had awakened before the sun's rise and feeling much better, walked down the corridor to the sanctuary of the solarium with barely a limp. Now, he stood watching as the eastern sky slowly turned a deeper shade of coral. This was his favorite hour of the day and he always felt amiss when he could not see the first rise of the golden orb along its path. He had much to do and this simple moment of solitude allowed him to arrange his thoughts and come to terms with the world around him. The almost daily ritual had started soon after the memories of his former life and his time spent in Mandos' Halls returned to his consciousness. Perhaps, it was due to a newfound appreciation of life, but whatever the cause, he did not forsake this morning liturgy without good reason.

Mouthing a silent curse at the garrulous black birds for disturbing his peace, his ire soon turned to laughter at their zany habits. Raising their heads up to the sky as if waiting for a piece of it to fall, they would hold the senseless pose then raucously go back to their greedy search, running from one spot to the next in a chaotic race of first come, first get. Then as if on cue, they would suddenly still and crane their heads up to the sky again.

Intent on watching the silly antics of the feasting birds, he visibly started when a large hand grasped his shoulder.

"Glorfindel, know you as well as I, you should not be out of bed," a voice chided softly in his ear.

"Do not worry, Master Healer. You have worked your magic. Once again, I am as good as new," Glorfindel said with a chuckle. "Miradhel is waging another losing battle with the Grackles, I see."

"Aye, they pull up the new shoots faster than she can replace them, plus they drop all manner of detritus on the linens when she hangs them out to dry," Anaran responded. "But you change the subject, meldir (1), we were discussing your injury. If you will not take my advice, at least return to your room so I may change your dressing. Humor me in this and I may persuade Miradhel to part with one of her sweet pastries for your morning meal."

"You drive a hard bargain, pen hael (2), for you know of my sweet tooth. The thought of such a delight already makes my mouth water. Lead on and let us get this ordeal out of the way."

"Do not try to fool me, ancient one," Master Anaran replied. "I wish to see how you take your weight on that leg. I will follow behind you."

True to the healer's word, the dressings were quickly changed and it was not long before Glorfindel was enjoying a flaky apple fritter and freshly prepared juice. Crumbs from the delectable sweet clung to his fingers and littered the bed sheets, but Glorfindel was too engrossed in the savory treat to notice. Two more followed the first, and a fourth was in his hand when a voice beckoned from the doorway.

"May I come in?" Lindir asked shyly, not sure how the seneschal would take his early morning visit.

"Only if you promise not to steal my fritters," the warrior said with a grin. "You must ask Miradhel for your own if you wish to break your fast with me."

Lindir had to smile. He had never seen Glorfindel so disheveled. The golden hair that was normally so carefully dressed was tousled and tangled. A large flake from the sweet torte he was so pleasurably devouring clung to his chin and a trail of the same ran down his chest to the sheet below. Sticky fingers clutched another sweet and the look on Glorfindel's face was one of cherubic delight. All traces of pain had fled and the guileless blue eyes that followed Lindir as he walked closer to the bed, spoke of love and happiness. Whether for him or the pastry, the minstrel was none too sure.

"You are in a better spirit today." Lindir said, "Thank you for the offer, but I already have dined. I came to see if there was anything you wished."

"Only your company, melethen, (3) Glorfindel smiled wistfully, "and brief your stay must be, for Captain Naldor and Haldir are due soon with their report. I must interrogate the prisoner and council with my officers, the scope and breadth of the patrol must be increased. That will require a schedule change, which I must work out on paper. Lord Elrond must be advised of our current situation and will want the details of what occurred. My day shall be long, Lindir. Do not fret if I take a quick meal in the barracks. Though I am not able to spend the time with you that I would wish, I promise to make up for it. Tonight, if you wish. Come to my room and we may continue where we left off. We also need to talk, meleth (4), for I wish to know more of you, inside and out.

"Melin chen, Lindir (5). Come, sit beside me and tell me of your night"

There is not much to tell, guren (6). I worked in the library on tasks Erestor set before me. He arrived later and we shared a bit of wine, bread and cheese. When our work was done, I went to my room and read for a while then fell asleep. My thoughts were often of you."

Lindir told Glorfindel the truth but not the whole truth. He had read last night, but it was quite late when he extinguished the candle beside his bed. The book that Erestor lent him was more than just a historical account of the time that Glorfindel spent in Gondolin.

Whoever the author, he had known the Chief of the House of the Golden Flower intimately, for much was revealed of the thoughts and nature of his Golden Lord. Gondolin's Glorfindel had been a just but hard taskmaster, for the men of his House adored him. He was Lieutenant, along with Ecthelion, to Turgon and as such had close business with the King. Here the book told much of the discourse between the two. It also described the beauty of the city, for it had been known as one of the fairest nigh unto Tirion. Of the House which Glorfindel was head, the author noted its richness was beyond description and he painted the Golden Lord as happy in his life with many and varied friends, a favorite of the King and Court.

But the most fascinating, yet heart-rending chapter in the book, told of the fall of Gondolin itself and it was this relating that first gave Lindir the idea that the author must have been part of that epic event. Through the author's written word, the minstrel lived the fear and fright the residents of the great city underwent.

On a night of celebration, Tarnin Austa, the summer festival, the dark hordes of Morgoth appeared upon the plains of Tumladen. The defenders of the city were caught unawares and chaos reigned as leaders tried to organize their troops. Lindir remembered reading the first person view of the fight:

"We rallied toward the great market and the smoke and darkness were such that we could hardly find our way. Hordes of Orcs ran amuck through the streets and I saw women, children, whole families cut down with the stroke of a sword. Others fled screaming into burning houses, their minds so crazed with fear they sought death in relief.

"The din and confusion were great as we pushed onwards towards the center of the city. Before we could reach our destination, a great swarm of Orcs came upon us. In no time, we were surrounded and no matter how many we felled, more stepped in to take their place. A messenger was sent to Turgon for aide, but it did not come and our hopes fell. Within the hour, our ranks were decimated so that we fought and slipped in pools of blood, too much of it that of our own kind. There were none among us who did not sport injury. Finally, our relief came, the House of the Harp having abandoned Salgant, who cowered in fear under his bed.

"With our numbers cut to less than a quarter, we managed to break through and fight our way to the square of the King. Tuor was there with Galdor and Ecthelion. But the White Wing, the Tree and the Fountain were in as forlorn a shape as the Golden Flower. There were cheers at our arrival and for the Harp, who had felled the Orcs on our tail. But we added little to the ranks. We were not enough.

Egalmoth came with the Heavenly Arch and remnants of the House of the Swallow, Pillar and Tower of Snow, for Duilin and Penlod the Tall had fallen. He told of the courage of Rog, slain with his archers at the North wall. How the House of the Hammer of the Wrath and its Lord this night ceased to exist. One more blow amongst many.

"We fought with leaden bodies against endless hordes of Morgath's minions. I saw Galdor step in front of Tuor and Ecthelion, saving their lives in a foolhardy, but brave move. A closer look brought me to my knees, for Tuor was supporting Ecthelion whose pallor was of one already dead. I tried to fight my way to him but there were too many between us.

"A great shadow fell. Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs, chief servant of Morgath, stood as a fiery mountain before us. Tuor became separated from Egalmoth as a great dragon broke through the northern barrier. Fighting his way back to the square, he became overcome by the dragon's heat and was set upon by Gothmog. Ecthelion came out of his deathly swoon. Though his shield arm was useless, the Lord of the Fountain of the King hefted his sword and with great determination, charged. As he clashed with the fell beast, I was sickened by the smell of roasting flesh. Rooted I stood, fighting blindly with no thought but for my lifelong companion. Ecthelion inflicted a dire wound upon the monster but Gothmog did not fall. With both arms grievously hurt, swordless, he rammed the peak of his helm directly into the Balrog's chest, entangling his feet with those of his foe. The force of the thrust pierced through the fiery armour, throwing Gothmog into the deep bowl of the Fountain. The Balrog sank like a stone as alas, so did Ecthelion, his heavy armor an anchor of doom. I cried out in anguish as the waters of the fountain closed over my dearest of friends.

"Grief threatened to overwhelm but I could not give in to my despair. Hard pressed, we were driven back unto the Tower of the King. Turgon ran down with the Royal Guard and ordered a charge. With our banners and armour in shreds, we regrouped under the King and fought as we never had before, driving our enemies from the square. But the body of a great dragon fell into the waters of the fountain.

"Steam boiled up from the befouled water, viscous and scalding. Blinded, the enemy picked us off like flies. Turgon signaled a retreat. We were defeated, our city as lost as those we had loved. Turgon threw down his crown and commanded us to follow Tuor. He climbed to the top of the tower with those left of his Royal house and urged us to escape. Tuor and Galdor pleaded with the king but their pleas fell on deaf ears. With Galdor at our head, we ran south by the Road of Pomps to Gar Ainion, where to Tuor's joy, we met with Idril who had come there with a band of refugees. Yet, Eärendil was not with her and Tuor despaired.

We crossed the Way of the Running Waters with Orcs and dragons in pursuit. It fell to me to protect the rear. We won Turor's house and there filed down the tunnel but its confines were heated from the dragons on the plain and choked with dead. At its end, in a dry pool camouflaged by shrubs, lay the hidden passage planned by Idril so long ago. Here, there was argument over which direction we should take. Tuor was for Christhorn but others cried for the Way of Escape, which was a shorter distance. Our party split and I followed Tuor.

At the dark of dawn, we crossed the plains. Tuor set Legolas Greenleaf as guide, for Legolas knew the way blindfolded. Far we went, pursued by Orcs riding wolves. Upon the shoulders of one sat Eärendil, whom Tuor rescued. We slay the rest and moved on toward the mountains, Christhorn."

It was there the narrator's voice changed. Lindir as long as he lived, would never forget what he read on the next few pages.

"The ragged line of survivors climbed to Eagle's Cleft, stumbling over the rocky terrain. They were led by Galdor and Legolas Greenleaf, the House of the Golden Flower and its Lord, Glorfindel, protecting the rear. Tuor kept close to his wife and son and tried his best to comfort the frightened. Egalmoth was grim, mourning the loss of Rog. Glorfindel cried openly as his men fell around him, valiantly fighting the Orcs and dragons that followed.

"The path wound around a great rock wall which rose to a dizzying height. To the other side was a sheer drop into a deep abyss. The way was dark as the light of Ithil did not reach the pass. Morgoth, though he was not aware of the escape, had set Orcs to guard the mountains. They threw rocks down from the heights. Thronodor and his great eagles drove the Orcs from the mountainside. Yet, at the rear was another nightmare, a Balrog twice the size of an Elf climbed along the cliffs. While most stood in horror, one acted without thought. Most beloved of Gondolin, second only to Ecthelion, Glorfindel climbed up the cliff face to battle the Balrog.

"The sword of the Balrog met that of Glorfindel's time and time again, until Glorfindel had barely strength left to fight. A chance move opened a chink in the Balrog's armor. With a powerful thrust, Glorfindel pared the arm from the monstrous beast. The Balrog threw back his head and roared. Glorfindel, seizing the advantage, drew his knife and plunged it into the Balrog's stomach. As the wails of the demon in its death throes echoed throughout the pass, the edge of the cliff at his feet began to crumble. Glorfindel jumped to safety but the Balrog grasped a lock of his hair that streamed in the wind beneath his helm. The beast tumbled into abyss, dragging Lord Glorfindel with him."

Lindir almost put the book aside at that point, so upset was he reading about the death of the Elf who held his heart. But when he saw that the handwriting had once again changed, he continued reading. The next words engrained themselves in his mind forever.

"That I did not remember my fall is a lie. As a living torch I fell, for the flames from the Balrog were kindled by the rushing wind. Mercifully, my anguish was quick, for I must have passed out before meeting the water. I was not aware that Thorondor retrieved my broken body and bore it back to my kin, for I had entered the realm of Mandos, an icy abode worse than that of the Helcaraxë. The cold sunk deep into my bones as if a thousand knives pierced my skin. But I had no skin nor bones nor body, only my thoughts and the ever-present painful frost that made the illusion my body still existed. No light warmed this dark void. I was alone and frightened. This was my existence for two hundred years, time enough to regret, curse my arrogant pride and that of my kin, to remember all that I had lost."

Lindir had not been able to read more, for he knew there could be only one Elf who had written that passage and he realized then what Glorfindel lived with each and every day. Lindir cried for his friend and lover. He did not feel rested when he awakened for he had tossed and turned in the throes of a nightmare throughout what was left of the night. Hiding the book under his pillow, he made his bed and readied for the new day.

"You look as if you lost your best friend, Lindir." Glorfindel said as he looked questioningly at the sad face before him. "Did I hurt you so much last night?"

Lindir broke out of his trance and played with the warrior's hand absent-mindedly. "I was thinking suddenly of Tebring. Master Anaran says he is no better." Lindir blurted out the first thing that came to mind, then felt guilty that he used the misfortune of his friend to cover his true thought.

Glorfindel winced. "Do you recall Celeng, the Arms Master? He is to visit this morning. He believes together we may talk sense into Tebring." The warrior sighed. "Perhaps we can do some good, but I am doubtful of the outcome."

Now it was Glorfindel's turn to look cheerless. Tebring had been on his mind since first he heard of the guardian's injury. He was not surprised at the Elf's reaction, for Tebring took his duty seriously, obsessively so. He had hoped Lord Elrond could help the warrior deal with his loss, but Elrond had tried and failed. Glorfindel was not sure he and Celeng would succeed where his Lord could not, but they had to try. Celeng had overcome his depression after his accident, although it had been a long road to complete recovery. But his old friend had come to terms with his disfigurement and was content in his new life.

"Let us put aside these thoughts for now, Lindir, and speak on a more pleasant topic. But first, if you do not mind, I need wash this stickiness from my hands and face." Glancing down, Glorfindel saw the mass of crumbs on the linen sheet. "Lord Erestor would have a few snide remarks if he were to see the mess I have made." Glorfindel told Lindir, laughing at the knowing look the minstrel gave. "How you manage to work with such a persnickety Elf, amazes me. Erestor and I would be at each other's throats before half the day passed."

"That you and Erestor love to antagonize each other is a given in Imladris. But all know your true feelings. Do you not, Glorfindel, consider Erestor one of your closest friends? Perhaps not so close as Haldir, but the two of you have put up with each other for millennia."

Glorfindel just smiled, then pushed himself out of bed and walked to the washbasin to perform his morning toiletry. He washed then asked Lindir to comb and braid his hair.

Lord Erestor found the two seated on the bed, Lindir just tying a leather lace to the end of the plait he had fashioned at the back of Glorfindel's head.

"I am sorry to disturb, Glorfindel, but I have come to ask for Lindir's assistance. Haldir and Captain Naldor are outside."

"A few moments, Erestor, then I will welcome Naldor and Haldir," Glorfindel replied.

"As you wish," Erestor returned with a slight bow, then as silently as he had entered, turned and exited the room.

Glorfindel wrapped strong arms around Lindir and pressed a kiss to the minstrel's lips. "I shall see you tonight, my love, and make amends for the time we must spend apart today."

Lindir returned the kiss then reluctantly parted from Glorfindel. "Naught will keep me away. Until then, my heart, take care."

Haldir entered the room as soon as Lindir had left, followed by Captain Naldor. Each was dressed in the uniform of his realm, Haldir in the gray and black of Lothlórien, Captain Naldor in the red and brown of Imladris. "My Lord," Captain Naldor said with a slight bow, "Here is my report on the interrogation of the prisoner."

Glorfindel nodded, "Proceed Captain," he commanded, all business now that his lover had left.

"When the fight was ended, we had the Half-elf and one of his men in custody. The mortal was grossly injured and did not survive our healer's care. His body was searched then brought to the Healing House for disposal. The Half-elf showed no remorse at his comrade's passing and spoke not a word when we tied him and brought him to the cell. The Healer found no injury to his person save a badly sprained ankle, which could be why he was so easily caught.

"Once confined, he asked for water, which we issued. After his thirst was quenched, he showered us with insults, mostly crude remarks concerning our Noldorin heritage, but also those pertaining to Elves in general. His language was that of men and he ignored our Sindarin, acting as if he knew it not.

"I questioned him as to the purpose of the attack, if he was acting on another's command, but he would not give forth the answers I sought. His only response was jeers and slurs against our kind. He revealed more when Marchwarden Haldir took over interrogation. I defer to the Marchwarden now to relate the rest."

"Seneschal," Haldir nodded in respect to Glorfindel. "That the prisoner resented my presence was immediately evidenced upon my entry into the cell. He seemed more antagonistic toward me than any other. He said he was born and raised in Lothlórien, the bastard son of a Lórien maid and a mortal. He claims we Silvans were prejudiced against him and treated him ill, causing him to leave and seek the race of men. It was his hatred of all that is Elven, which caused him to plan the attack, his goal to overrun Imladris and use it as a base to invade Mirkwood and Lothlórien. He hinted of a grander plan wherein men would one day rule these lands. Whether this was delusion on his part or he does have knowledge of a master plan, I am not sure. At present, that is all the information I could obtain."

"Thank you, Marchwarden, Captain," Glorfindel replied after listening intently to both. "I shall question the prisoner myself later and request that you both be present. I will send a messenger to inform you when. Captain Naldor, if you would leave your written report on the table there, you have my permission to leave. That is, unless you have anything further? Marchwarden, if you would stay, I would like to speak with you a moment."

Captain Naldor walked over to the small table and placed his report upon it, then turned to his commander and stood at attention. "I will take my leave, my Lord, and will await your messenger."

Once he had gone, Glorfindel beckoned Haldir to come closer. "What are your true thoughts, Haldir?"

The Marchwarden did not hesitate in his reply. "Captain Naldor seems a competent Commander. I did not hide any truths when I gave my report. My intuition tells me the prisoner is bitter and acted out of revenge, that the attack was exactly what he says, an attempted coup that failed. There is always the possibility that one with more intelligence planned the ambush as part of a larger operation, and that should be checked thoroughly. But I would be surprised if that were the case."

"I appreciate your help, Haldir," Glorfindel replied with sincerity, "and I respect your opinion. Lord Elrond will be appreciative of your help also."

"On a different subject, I meant what I said the other night. You are one of my dearest friends, Haldir. Without your help I would not have found Lindir, nor would I have opened my heart. You have always been there for me and I would have you know, I would give my life for you, if ever it was needed."

Haldir smiled, and clasped the warrior's hand in his. "You are dear to me as well, ancient one. You chastised Lindir the other night, but I feared for you the same as he. Be careful, Glorfindel, do not seek Mandos' dwelling again, for he might not be as kind the second time. As for myself, I am ever at your service."

The two exchanged a warrior's handclasp then Haldir gave his long time friend a hug. "I saw Celeng waiting in the hall, so I will not stay. You have much to do and I am keeping you from your tasks. As Captain Naldor, I await your messenger. Rest during your breaks if you can, for you will feel your injury much today. Until later, my friend."

"Send in Celeng on your way out, would you, Haldir? We will try to reason with Tebring today. With the blessing of the Valar, maybe we can make a difference. Navaer (7) friend, until later."

The tap of wood on the stone floor signaled Celeng's arrival. The arms master could move quite well with his crutch but it still pained Glorfindel to see an Elf so limited in his movement.

"It is good to see you, Commander." Celeng said with a smile. Although, I did not expect to visit you in the Healing House! Woe the circumstances that places Elrond's second-in-command out of commission."

Glorfindel returned the smile. Celeng and he went back a long ways, for the green-eyed Noldor fought at his side in the War of the Last Alliance and in the years preceding the Great War, helped train the raw recruits at Imladris. His prowess with knives was legendary or rather had been, for after his injury he had retired his weapons. But in the time before his accident, he was unequaled in the art of the blades. He had instructed most of the older Imladris guardians in their use and many Lothlórien Galadhrim as well. Glorfindel had been hard put to replace him. But above all, he had been a good friend to the Elda. One he turned to on those black nights when he sat alone in his battlefield tent, his mind sunk in dark thoughts. A comrade, with whom he would share a glass of wine, a warrior's song, or visions of home. There had been many such nights, and many such times that he had called upon his friend.

"Aye, Celeng, I blame myself for this occurrence. Through some error on my part, we allowed an enemy to breach our border. I was the one caught in the trap. The Valar forbid, it could have been Elrond. It is beyond my comprehension that I should have been so lax." The great warrior shook his head in puzzlement. "I deserve any punishment Lord Elrond plans."

"Do not chasten yourself, Glorfindel. I have heard it was a Half-elf who commanded the men, that his mercenaries were trained in our ways."

"And does that excuse the fact that I was caught unawares? Does that mean if Mirkwood decided today to attack Imladris and was successful, that I would not be to blame? I have let Lord Elrond down, failed in my duty. By rights, he should ask me to retire and put Captain Naldor in my place."

"That my friend he will not do. There is none more suited to the job than you." Celeng replied.

"Why, because I slew a Balrog? You forget I died in the attempt. Glorfindel suddenly faltered. "Am I slowing down, Celeng? Is my great age affecting me like it does Men? I-I seem to have lost the confidence I once had in my youth."

"None of us are infallible, Glorfindel, we all make mistakes. You saved the situation. There were no other injuries besides your own, if rumors are correct." Celeng said, trying to improve the mood of his friend.

"I miss you Celeng." Glorfindel replied with a weak smile. "There are none left in the guardians with whom I can truly relate. What is the saying that men have? 'Old soldiers never die, they simply fade away.' Is that what is happening to us, Celeng?"

"I will forgive you for that one, Glorfindel. In your current mood, your wits are addled. It is I who have faded away, mellonen, (8) not you. Give yourself time to heal from your wounds, both mental and physical. You just left your bed this morning."

"Ai, Celeng, do forgive me for the insult. I did not think before the words left my mouth." Glorfindel kicked himself mentally. Celeng was here to persuade Tebring to come to terms with his handicap, and Glorfindel had just rudely reminded Celeng of his. In his bout of self-pity, he had hurt the feelings of his friend. "Let us change the subject and talk about that for which you have come. What are you ideas for dealing with Tebring?"

For the next half-hour the two discussed plans for helping the young guardian out of his melancholy. Both knew they must take drastic steps to keep the Elf from fading. Tebring's spirits were so low, he would not last the week if left as he was, and aside from Lord Elrond and Master Anaran, Tebring allowed no one else into his room. They would just have to enter unannounced and hope they could perform a miracle. As they were finalizing their plan, one of the apprentice healers knocked at the door.

"Forgive me my Lord Glorfindel, but Lord Elrond requests your presence after your talk with Arms Master Celeng. He asks that you meet him in the Herb Room."

"Thank you for relaying the message," Glorfindel replied. "Please tell Lord Elrond I will be with him in a moment. We are just finishing here."

"As you wish, my Lord." The messenger replied then left to perform his duty.

Celeng fingered a lock of Glorfindel's golden hair. Do not worry, mellonen (8), Lord Elrond knows your worth. He will not seek Naldor to take your place. The situation is not as dire as you make it out to be. I will seek you after the midday fast and we will speak with Tebring. Go now, you will not wish to keep Elrond waiting."

Glorfindel sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "If you would, please, hand me the robe Master Anaran left. It will not do to appear in front of my Lord as I am. Unfortunately, my clothes are stained with blood."

Taking the robe from Celeng, Glorfindel slipped his arms inside the garment and fastened the braided loops around the buttons that closed it in front. He and Celeng exited the room together, Glorfindel heading for the Herb room, Celeng to seek out Tambor and Garion.

Lord Elrond was sitting at the large table when Glorfindel knocked at the door. "Come in, Glorfindel," the ruler of Imladris said to his second-in-command. "I have been waiting for you to finish with Celeng as I have something important to discuss."

"My Lord," Glorfindel replied, crossing the room to stand on the opposite side of the table from his liege. The warrior's nervousness increased as he saw the look on Elrond's face. Elrond had a fierce temper and his expression at the moment was not at all benevolent.

"Years ago Glorfindel, you, Erestor, and I had a serious talk about young Lindir. Do you remember our discussion?"

"Yes, my Lord," Glorfindel replied, unnerved for a moment as his Lord spoke of a different matter than that which he had expected.

"And do you also remember, Glorfindel, swearing an oath that not a word of that discussion would be revealed to Lindir?" Elrond had risen from the table and almost spit these words in Glorfindel's face.

"Yes, my Lord, I remember and I have not broken that oath." Glorfindel's face turned pale. "Has Lindir found out that which we discussed?"

"I know not, Glorfindel," Elrond said in a scathing voice. "But I also remember you coming to me when Lindir reached his majority and telling me of your feelings for the Elf. Another one of our discussions you seem to have forgotten. I advised you at that time to stay away from him, and to keep those feelings buried deep inside."

A dull ache began to form in the pit of Glorfindel's stomach as he watched Elrond's face turn a deep shade of red. "I made such a promise, my Lord, but..."

But Elrond in his anger did not let Glorfindel finish. "Erestor informs me that against my wishes, you have not only sought out the minstrel but have declared your love to Lindir and taken him to your bed!"

"Aye, my Lord that is so, but you must understand..." Glorfindel tried to tell Elrond of all that had happened between himself and the minstrel. But again, Elrond interrupted.

"I must understand nothing, Glorfindel! It is you who must understand. As of this moment you are to stay away from Lindir. And since it seems I cannot trust you to do that, I will make certain you obey my command. You are to pack your bags and ride to the Gray Havens. I have a message already written for you to give to Círdan. Do not fight me on this, Glorfindel, for it solves two problems. It gets you away from Lindir and it releases me from having to demote my long time Commander, who for the first time in Imladris' history, allowed a band of misfits to invade Imladris!"

Glorfindel felt as if all the breath had been knocked from his lungs. His eyes narrowed to mere slits as adrenaline rushed through his body. Any words of apology he had been prepared to utter flew out the window and a flash of anger such as he had not felt in a long time flooded his senses.

"No! " Glorfindel shouted, bringing one of his large fists down upon the table with such force that the sound echoed throughout the Healing House. Leaning forward until his nose was inches from that of his Lord, his spat his words back in Elrond's face. "You do not have to worry about demoting me, my Lord, for I resign! But I will not leave Imladris. I will not leave Lindir!"

"You are right, I did declare my love to him and for that I have Varda's approval. I - Do - Not - Need - Yours! Keep your nose out of my love life, Peredhel. If you do not wish me to stay in your house, I will move to the barracks and if you do not wish me there ... well, I am no stranger to a bedroll! Leave Lindir alone. Cross me on this, Elrond, and you will have my sword at your throat!"

Without waiting for a response, the ancient warrior shouted a string of curses in Quenya and stalked angrily out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His wrath could be felt by all in the Healing House and those who were in his way, quickly found someplace else to go. Fire was in his eyes and heat coursed through his veins. He was a swirling hurricane, an active volcano ready to burst. All who saw him, fled in terror. For Glorfindel in his ire was an Elf to be reckoned with and Glorfindel had not been this enraged since a Balrog crossed his path.

1\. meldir - friend  
2\. pen hael - wise one  
3\. melethen - my love  
4\. meleth - love  
5\. Melin chen, Lindir - I love you, Lindir  
6\. guren - my heart  
7\. Navaer - farewell  
8\. mellonen - my friend


	22. Tempest-tossed

Tambor and Garion were sitting together on a bench in the solarium. Celeng was with them and was discussing his plan to help Tebring. He had just told the two Elves that Glorfindel would go with him to speak with Tebring, when the angry voice of the seneschal reverberated throughout the Healing House. "You do not have to worry about demoting me, my Lord, for I resign! But I will not leave Imladris. I will not leave Lindir!"

It was not a few moments later that a door slammed so hard that it caused the three to jump. Garion rose quickly and made it to the corridor just in time to see his Commander fly down the hall in a fury. Celeng was at Garion's side a second later. Both of their faces reflected their disturbance at what they had seen and heard. Garion made as if to follow Glorfindel, but Celeng grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Stay with Tambor. I will go find out what happened. It will be a sad day in Imladris if Glorfindel has stepped down."

Garion just shook his head and watched Celeng as he hurried after the ancient warrior, the tap of his wooden crutch the only sound that broke the hush that had fallen over the building. Tambor had also risen during the outburst and as Garion turned, the smaller Elf clutched at Garion's tunic. "Tell me, Garion, has all Imladris gone mad? Are we to lose Glorfindel also?" Tambor's shoulders shook as he broke into sobs. His lover was at the door of Mandos' Hall, and now his beloved Commander was also leaving. It was too much. What would they take from him next?

Garion sighed as he wrapped his arms around the shaken elf, leading him back to the bench. When trouble came, it came in droves. A storm was brewing, that was for sure, and all he and Tambor could do was sit. Sit and wait for the tempest to break.

Glorfindel's thoughts were in turmoil. How dare Elrond try to send him away, how dare his Lord think he would harm Lindir in any way. Glorfindel wanted to scream his anger to the world. His face was red, his mouth was shaped in a determined line and fire seemed to spark from his eyes. Just as his anger threatened to boil to the surface, a hand touched his shoulder and without thought he lashed out with all his strength. Celeng went flying through the air, his crutch falling to one side as he landed with a thud on his rear, falling back stunned to the ground.

Wide shocked green eyes looked up into fiery blue, as Celeng faced a stormy Glorfindel. The blond warrior's hair flew about his head wildly, as if an electric charge had passed through it, and although there was some cognizance of his friend in the seneschal's gaze, Celeng felt a trembling in his bowels. He had faced many a foe, but the ancient creature before him was almost unrecognizable. Glorfindel seemed larger than life. Every muscle in his large frame was tensed and coiled, as that of a great cat ready to spring. There was an intangible sense of power radiating from his form and for the first time in his life, Celeng was afraid of Glorfindel, for Glorfindel was feral in his anger. Celeng could now see how an enemy would quail before the great Lord. He gazed upon a being ancient beyond imagine, wild, virulent, powerful and beautiful. But the allure was that of a poisonous serpent. One who's jeweled hues gave a false sense of charm to its prey. Celeng felt his heart stop and his control falter. His body began to tremble and his limbs to quake. He held his breath, waiting to see what the wild creature in front of him would do next.

"What. Do. You. Want? " The tempestuous vision before his eyes spoke, power emanating from every word of a voice that boomed like thunder. Celeng could not speak. A large hand reached down and in one movement pulled him to his feet, bringing his face just inches from that of the puissant warrior. It was as if Glorfindel would eat him alive and Celeng could only stare at his captor, his courage gone, his complexion wan and ghostly.

"Orch thûl!" (1) The powerful hands let him go, causing him to tumble to the ground once more. It was that more than anything that caught the attention of Glorfindel, for he suddenly took a deep breath and brought his hands to his brow. "You have picked a bad time to come after me, meldir (2). State your cause, before I completely lose control."

"I just--just wanted..." a shaken Celeng managed to get out as he fumbled for his crutch. "I mean I overheard your argument with Lord Elrond and I came to see what it was about, to see if I could help. After our conversation about Tebring, I felt I... Elbereth, Glorfindel!" The tanner struggled to catch his breath, "I thought you were going to kill me."

Glorfindel stared at his friend, his anger subdued for the moment but still boiling under the surface. "Ah, Celeng, I am sorry. You caught me unawares and my mind is in turmoil. Forgive me, for I have no ill will towards you." Glorfindel bent down and helped the fallen elf to stand, apologizing not just with his words, but with his eyes. "You are right. Tebring should be my number one concern, above all others. Let us put our plan into action. That is, if you can stomach my presence after what I just did."

"Since I am unharmed and in one piece, I forgive you." Celeng replied. "By Aulë, you had me worried, for a moment I was completely at your mercy. I hope I never truly earn your wrath, for I would not last a second! Give me a moment to calm my heart and we will seek out Tebring."

"I would never have harmed you intentionally, Celeng." Glorfindel said, feeling ashamed of his behavior. "As I said before, you caught me at a bad moment. I am still not myself, but I am not so out of control that you need fear me."

"That is good to hear," Celeng said shakily. "I would hate to think I need go through that again! I am ready if you are, mellonen (3), although I pray Lord Elrond has the wits to hide from you today."

The only answer he got from the seneschal at the mention of Elrond's name was a growl. But the warrior did wait for Celeng to get settled before they both headed back to the Healing House. Celeng could only pray that Glorfindel would keep his calm in the presence of Tebring.

Master Healer Anaran did not say a word as he ushered the two into the darkened room, although the reproachful look on his face told Glorfindel that he did not approve of the seneschal's earlier outburst. Glorfindel's response was to set his shoulders and hold his head high. But the look in the blue eyes that stared at the Healer made Master Anaran quickly lower his gaze, frightened of what the saw in their depths.

"I will leave you both alone with Tebring," the Healer finally spoke, "but I will be right outside in the corridor if he should need me. Be gentle with him, he is very weak."

It did not take a healer to see that the elf in the bed was fading. Tebring was but a ghost of his former self. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and the dark bouncy curls that usually framed his angular face were limp and dull in color. Shadows pooled underneath his eyes and hollowed his cheeks and his lips were dry and cracked. Brown eyes that used to shine with a merry gleam now gazed dully into space. If the elf was aware of his visitors, he gave no notice.

Glorfindel dragged two chairs close to the bed and beckoned Celeng to sit. Taking the other's crutch from his hand, he leaned it against the wall then seated himself. In a voice as soft as the wool on a newborn lamb, Glorfindel spoke the name of the injured Elf.

"Tebring, can you hear me, gwador (4)? It is Glorfindel and Celeng." A large hand that had previously lashed out in anger gently moved a strand of brown hair away from the pale face of the guardian who lay unmoving in the bed. Tebring did not respond or utter a word.

"We are concerned about you, mellonamin. Will you not talk with us a while? We have only your best interest at heart." Celeng, too, spoke softly, watching as Glorfindel's hand stroked the side of Tebring's face then gently turned it so the guardian was facing his mentors.

Lackluster brown eyes looked at the two Elves without recognition then resumed their vacant stare into space. Celeng wet his lips and tried again. "I know you can hear me, Tebring. You must talk to us. You cannot continue on this path, meldir, there is much to live for. Do not seek Mandos' Halls before your time."

"Aye, Tebring," Glorfindel spoke up. "It is not a place to wish for. I know, for I have been there. No matter how despairing you think life, the cold and void of Mandos' home is far worse. Take my advice, Tebring, come back to us."

"Leave me alone." The voice that issued from cracked lips was whisper soft and contained a hint of anger, but there was no force behind the words. It was as if Tebring was resigned to the fact that his visitors would not go away.

"That we cannot do, mellonamin. We cannot ignore your slide into despair. We cannot just sit and watch you fade away." Celeng's voice broke with emotion as he said these words. The young guardian in the bed was not just a student he had trained. He had followed the career of each of his pupils, and he cared for them like the sons he never had. Tebring had been one of his favorites, as the Elf had always been full of mischief and high energy. He was charismatic and drew others to him like a magnet, the type who was never lacking in friends. He had a brooding side but it rarely surfaced, and when it did, it was never for long. The youngster was a natural leader and had he not been cut down, would have advanced far in the guardian ranks. To see him in this shape, lost and hopeless, was almost more than Celeng could bear.

"There are so many here who love you and would miss you if you left, Tebring. Do you think we care less for you now that you are injured? And what of Tambor, he has sat outside your door with almost no sleep or rest ever since you were brought here. Yet you will not even speak to him. He is heart-broken, Tebring. Do you not know that if you fade he will follow? Follow you unto death? Is that what you wish? Can you truly mean to be that cruel?"

A single tear slid from under the eye lid of the wasted form in the bed, but Tebring did not speak again, just turned his head away. Trembling fingers pulled the covers up higher then with much effort switched position in the bed, turning his back to Glorfindel and Celeng.

Glorfindel would not be deterred. He rose from his chair and walked to the other side of the bed and stood by Tebring's side. "Celeng is right, Tebring. You cannot wallow here in self-pity. There are others who depend on you and you cannot forsake them. What of the guardians in your patrol, do they give up when they are injured? No Tebring, only you have done that. Did Celeng bow to despair when he lost the use of his foot? Nay. He may no longer lead the life of a warrior, but is he any less an Elf because of that? Do I love him any less? No, he is still my friend. Do you think the life of a warrior is all there is? What of Lord Erestor, he too was a great warrior but he traded in that life because of his love for books. Is he less an Elf because he does not fight? Tebring, you come from a family of warriors who have pledged their sword to their Lord and King. I know you are disappointed that you cannot continue the tradition. But everyone has other talents that can be furthered, talents that are just as fulfilling. Give yourself a chance, gwador. Do not give up so easily."

"Go away, leave me alone! I do not want your pity. I do not want Tambor's pity. You speak with such emotion, Lord Glorfindel, but only now, at the beset of my injury. Later I will be forsaken. Are you truly a friend of Celeng's? When last did you see him before today? Has he not been tossed to the wayside because he can no longer do that which his old comrades still can?

"I am sorry, Celeng, but I have seen the looks that others give you and I could not bear to see them directed at myself. Call me vain if you wish but if I cannot be whole, then I do not care to live. You speak of Tambor and his devotion. Do you think I wish Tambor to see me like this? To be with me when I am like this? What life would he have playing nursemaid to me for all eternity? I cannot even bathe myself! Tambor will find another to love. It will not take him long to forget about me." Tebring was gasping with the effort of his outburst.

Glorfindel could feel no pity for one with such an attitude. He had taught Tebring better. This was not the behavior of a warrior. Glorfindel knew, because Glorfindel was one of the greatest warriors of all time. His battles were not only those of the field. He thought of Ecthelion, who had selflessly given his life to save his comrades. He thought of all the fallen warriors of the Houses of Gondolin and those of countless battles before. He thought of the faces that he saw at night in his dreams and he remembered those who were maimed. Those who had struggled to find their way and made it and the anger that he had but a short time ago suppressed, surged back with even greater force. With all the strength he could muster, he forced his voice to be gentle.

"Do you have the courage to tell Tambor of your thoughts? If I bring him into this room right now, will you tell him what you have said to Celeng and me? If you can do that Tebring, then I will leave you be, leave you to your own fate."

"I do not wish to speak to Tambor," Tebring said in a low voice. "I do not wish to speak to you or Celeng or anyone. I just wish to be left alone! Leave me now, or I will call Master Anaran who will make you leave. He and Lord Elrond understand and respect my wishes!"

Glorfindel's eyes widened at these words and he could no longer contain his wrath. "You may do what you like, Tebring, but you will not leave young Tambor without at least saying good-bye, and whether you like it or not you will tell him to his face!" And with that, the Balrog Slayer scooped the protesting elf up into his arms and stormed down the hall to the solarium.

Tambor and Garion rose in shock at Glorfindel's entry. Celeng and Master Anaran followed in the seneschal's wake, consternation on their faces. The warrior carried a frightened Tebring to within a foot of Tambor and in a voice that shook with rage, spoke directly to Tebring. "Tell him, Tebring. Tell Tambor that you no longer want him. Tell him that his love means no more to you than a whisper in the wind. Tell him that you would willingly give him up to walk Mandos' Halls, because you are too vain to stay in this world unless you are whole. Tell him to his face, Tebring. Tell him you wish him to choose another mate!"

Tebring buried his face into the warrior's neck, refusing to look at Tambor. Tears were streaming down Tambor's cheeks as he saw how frail and weak his lover was and how Tebring turned away from him.

"Is it true, Tebring?" Tambor whispered. "Is that what you wish, for me to go away? Do you not love me anymore? I could not bear it if this is true. You bound yourself to me, melethen (5). We swore our love for all eternity before Ilúvatar, swore our love until death and beyond. I will follow you, Tebring. I will follow you to Mandos' Halls if you can live no more on Arda. You are the other half of my soul, Tebring. I cannot live without you. Please, tell me that you feel the same."

Tebring's arms wrapped around Glorfindel's neck as he pressed his face into the warrior's shoulder. Great sobs wracked his frail body as he listened to his lover's words that were spoken with such anguish. But still Tebring would not look at Tambor.

Tambor could stand it no longer. He moved next to Glorfindel and with a shaking hand, gently stroked his lover's hair. "Will you not even look at me Tebring? Do I mean so little to you that you will not even tell me how you feel to my face? Is all that we had these past centuries a sham? Please, Tebring, talk to me. I will not force you to love me, but please, do not ignore me. You are breaking my heart."

Long moments passed and still Tebring clung to Glorfindel, hiding his head from all present. 'Till finally, with a voice filled with defeat, Glorfindel addressed the group. "I will take him back to his room. I am sorry to be the one to cause you more pain, Tambor."

"Wait." The voice spoke so low that Glorfindel barely heard it but he hesitated, hoping he had not misunderstood. Slowly, Tebring raised his head and with tear-filled eyes looked at Tambor. "I cannot hurt you any longer, melamin. I love you, Tambor. Do you not understand that? But I do not wish you to be burdened with a cripple for the rest of your life. You are young, Tambor. You deserve so much better than that."

"Do you think I love you only for your looks, Tebring?" Tambor said as he pressed his head against his mate. "Do you think I care whether you are a warrior or a cook or a gardener? Do you think I will hate you because you have lost part of your leg? I will be your leg, Tebring, until you can learn to use a crutch like Celeng. I will do anything for you, my beloved, if you will stay with me. Please Tebring, I will get on my knees and beg, if it will make you change your mind." And Tambor knelt, reaching up toward his mate in supplication. "Do not leave me here alone, Tebring. Stay with me, please?"

The Elves in the room held their breath. All eyes were glued to Tebring as they waited for his answer, but Tebring just shook his head, causing Tambor to press his hands to his face and weep in despair. Garion stepped forward to comfort Tambor, his anger at Tebring for hurting his friend evident on his face. But when he went to lead Tambor away, Tebring's words made him stay his hand.

"I will stay with you, Tambor." It was spoken softly, but there was so much love in the words that all understood Tebring had made his final decision. Tambor smiled happily through his tears and stood, holding out his arms. Glorfindel carefully placed Tebring where he belonged, wrapped in his lover's arms. The two had eyes only for each other, as Tambor slowly carried the one who meant everything to him back to his bed to rest.

Tambor and Tebring were not the only elves present with tears in their eyes. Glorfindel, Celeng and Garion, warriors of the past and present, and one Master Healer all reached up to wipe wetness away from their faces. Master Anaran smiled and nodded at Glorfindel, then left the room. He had other patients to attend to. Glorfindel sighed. Turning a weary face to the others, he looked at them as if in deep thought. "Come my friends, I owe you an explanation for my actions this morning. Tebring and Tambor need time alone. I would ask you to take a walk with me."

At a nod from the others, Glorfindel led them from the Healing House out into the open to a secluded spot where they could talk in private.

While Glorfindel was doing his best to give Garion and Celeng a censored version of the fight with Lord Elrond that led to his resignation, Lord Erestor, Haldir, and Captain Naldor were seated in Erestor's office discussing the same. Lindir, fortunately, was translating scrolls in the library, totally oblivious to what had taken place that morning in the Healing House.

"Lord Elrond placed you in command upon Lord Glorfindel's resignation," Lord Erestor told Captain Naldor.

"My Lord, if I may be so bold." Captain Naldor replied. "I have known Lord Glorfindel for a long time. He has always considered it his sworn duty to protect Lord Elrond and Imladris. Surely this resignation was made at the height of his anger. I cannot believe he truly intends to step down."

"What he intends and what he has done are two separate things, Captain Naldor." Erestor replied. "As the result of his actions, Lord Elrond is left without a second-in-command. If you do not accept the position, it will be offered to another. However, in his opinion you are the most qualified."

Captain Naldor knew his first duty lay with the Lord of Imladris. Therefore, he reluctantly agreed to assume command, but only after making sure Lord Erestor knew that he would gladly take back his old position if Glorfindel should change his mind.

"I believe you have made a wise decision, Commander Naldor." Erestor addressed the new Chief of Imladris forces. Now that you have taken command, Lord Elrond wishes to know your intentions concerning the prisoner."

"I would speak with Glorfindel and the guardians first, Lord Erestor, before I make any decision. If my Lord Elrond wishes, I will meet with him after I carry out these tasks."

"As you wish, Commander." Erestor replied. "I release you to your duties." Then turning to the Marchwarden, Erestor asked Haldir if he would stay for a moment.

"Lord Erestor, Captain Haldir." Commander Naldor said, nodding to both Elves as he took his leave.

The moment the new commander left the room, Erestor's mask crumbled. "Haldir, I am afraid Glorfindel has finally gone too far. He and Elrond have had heated arguments many times before. This is not the first time Glorfindel has threatened to resign. It is not even the fact that he did so. Elrond could forgive him that, for it was said in the heat of argument. But never Haldir, has Glorfindel ever threatened to physically harm our Lord, and that is what he did today. He told Elrond in no certain words that if he came between him and Lindir, he risked a sword to his throat. That is not a threat Lord Elrond took lightly. Haldir, I have never seen him so furious with Glorfindel."

Haldir, who had taken a seat in one of the chairs next to Erestor's desk, cocked his head and simply looked at Erestor for a moment. "Erestor, Glorfindel has found something that not many do in a lifetime. His love for Lindir is not infatuation, it is that of a soul mate, witnessed and blessed by the Valar. Knowing that, what reason could Lord Elrond have for tearing them apart, for forbidding Glorfindel to see Lindir?"

"There is good reason, Haldir, but that is all I can tell you. Glorfindel is privy to a matter that could cause Lindir great harm. He took an oath long ago as did I, not to reveal this secret. Elrond is worried that if the relationship between Glorfindel and Lindir continues, they will eventually want to bind themselves to one another. If what you say is true and Glorfindel believes Lindir to be his soul mate, then how could they not wish to marry? In binding, Lindir would learn that which he should not. Can you not see what Glorfindel has done by courting the minstrel? He dooms Lindir to hurt no matter which path he takes. It is that which has Elrond so upset with Glorfindel. The fact that Glorfindel threatened him makes it even worse."

"It makes no sense to me, Erestor," Haldir replied. "Lindir has loved Glorfindel for centuries, and then Glorfindel admits he has long had the same feelings for Lindir. Did Elrond truly think he could forever keep the two apart? What secret could be so dire as to risk the grief of broken hearts?"

"Know that it is, Haldir. The sad thing is that Glorfindel knows of it and after swearing never to reveal it to Lindir, has put himself in such a position that he cannot help but do so. He promised Elrond a long time ago that he would not act on his feelings for Lindir, and he has broken that promise."

"He swore an oath to that?" Haldir asked, a look of disbelief on his face. "How could you ask that of him, Erestor? How could Elrond? How could anyone who has ever loved ask that of another? You say you are Glorfindel's friend. Then how can you side with Elrond on this? Erestor, I would never have believed this of you!"

"No, not an oath, just a promise but perhaps you are right, only someone who has truly loved another could understand your point of view. But that rules me out doesn't it, Haldir? For that is something, unfortunately, that I have never known!" And with those words and a sob, Erestor all but flew from the room.

1\. Orch thûl! - Orc breath!  
2\. meldir - friend  
3\. mellonen - my friend  
4\. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)  
5\. melethen - my love


	23. Out of the Mouths of Babes

Glorfindel leaned against the doorframe at the entrance to the library mesmerized by the beauty of the lone elf in the room. Lindir, unaware of his presence, sat engrossed in his work, his pink tongue protruding slightly and resting against the bottom of his upper lip. A section of snow-white hair draped across his shoulder, hugging his arm like a cape of the finest silk. His long dark lashes, in sharp contrast to his pearl-white skin, fluttered slightly as his eyes scanned the unrolled parchment on the desk below. While Glorfindel watched, a ray of sunlight beamed through an open archway, highlighting the back of the minstrel's head, bathing it in a halo of gold. Glorfindel felt a contraction deep in the pit of his stomach, as his love for the Elf in that moment threatened to overwhelm him. This is what Elrond wishes to take from me, he thought. This, which I never knew I needed, which now makes me so complete. It is this he wishes to tear apart. Never, Glorfindel vowed. Never will I allow it to happen.

Crossing over to the table, Glorfindel cleared his throat. Lindir looked up at the sound and gave the warrior a quick smile. "Is this a short visit or do we have time to dine?" he asked, placing his quill in its holder and leaning back gracefully in his chair.

"I wish I could indulge in such pleasure," Glorfindel said, gazing longingly at the innocent face of the one he loved. He held the expression for a moment, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "There is a matter I must discuss with you."

"And I," Glorfindel thought, "who want so much to make you happy, will again bring you sorrow."

"Events happened this morning, Lindir, which affect us both. Some of the news I bear is good, but the rest, well, that is one of the reasons I have come to you in person."

The smile left Lindir's face and he looked at the warrior nervously. Was Glorfindel going to tell him it was all a mistake? Did Glorfindel wish to end that which they had just begun? There was great sorrow reflected in his lover's blue eyes. That could only mean one or two things. Either Glorfindel had changed his mind about their relationship, or Valar forbid, Tebring's condition had worsened. Lindir swallowed around the lump in his throat and prepared for the worst.

Glorfindel pulled a chair back from the table and sat so he faced Lindir. Taking Lindir's hands into his own, he rested both in his lap. "First, I wished to let you know that Tebring has found reason to live. Celeng and I went to see him this morning and were able to talk him into meeting with Tambor. The two are together right now and Tambor's fears are eased. Tebring could not continue his quest for death once he saw the way it affected his mate."

"Oh, that is good news!" Lindir exclaimed, relieved that Tebring had finally come to his senses. He had been so worried about the welfare of his friends, especially after his last conversation with Master Anaran. He had felt sure that nothing would keep Tebring from fading and that in his grief, Tambor would follow. "I am so happy for them both! Oh, Glorfindel that is wonderful to hear." But the happiness he felt for his friends was tempered by his dread of what Glorfindel would say next.

"It pleases me also, Lindir. I care deeply for those under my command and I too feared Tebring could not be saved." Glorfindel spoke softly, rubbing his thumbs across the minstrel's fingers as he thought how best to bring up the next words he must say.

"And you, Glorfindel, how are you feeling?" Lindir asked, hoping to prolong the moment before the warrior uttered that which he feared. "It is not long since you left the Healing House and Master Anaran had hoped you would spend today at rest. Your wounds were deep and you lost much blood. I have worried about you." Lindir spoke the truth, for he had been thinking about his warrior most of the morning.

"My injuries are nothing to be concerned about. What I needed most was the healing sleep of last night. I am sore, but not enough to warrant bed rest and my duties forbid it anyway. After you left, Captain Naldor and Haldir gave their report of the interrogation of the prisoner. It was not something that could be put off and their findings were frightening. The Half-elf is unbalanced Lindir. He has hate for our kind because he was mistreated in his youth. In his twisted mind he thought to conquer Imladris and use it as a base to destroy Elvenkind. I shudder to think what could have happened had we not foiled his plan. I wanted more than anything to speak with him today, to look into the eyes of the one that caused me harm and wished to do the same to our kin, but because of this morning's events that must wait."

"What type of mistreatment could cause the peredhel to hate us so?" Lindir asked. "You are right, his plan was pure madness."

"Ai, Lindir, according to Haldir the Half-elf's mother was assaulted and raped by men. Shortly after he was born she faded. As you know, youth are not always kind and can make life miserable for those who are different. He was teased about his mother's fate and spurned because of his mixed blood. Lórien looks after its orphans, but you know what happens when you group youth together. In their innocence they can be cruel. The twins know there are some that speak behind their back about their mixed heritage, but none would dare say a word to their face. The Half-elf did not have the protection of nobility. Add to that the nature of his conception, and well, I am sure more than a few mean words were directed his way. But that is no excuse for what he did, Lindir. He is evil, scum of the earth. He deserves whatever fate the council recommends, and I hope the penalty is harsh."

Lindir did not comment. He was remembering an elf whose mother met a similar fate and he was thankful he had kept the nature of his parent's death secret. What would it have been like to be shunned by others, teased and taunted with no friends to comfort or relieve your pain? Would he have been able to bear such misery? He shuddered to think what the Half-elf must have gone through. But Glorfindel was right; nothing could excuse the prisoner's actions. The punishment for kinslaying was death.

"Do not concern your self with him," Glorfindel was saying, "that is a task best left to others. What I have to tell you now, Lindir, will bring you grief. Would that I could spare you from this pain, but I cannot. It is important to me that you hear of it from my own lips and not from those of another."

Here Glorfindel paused and took a deep breath. Lindir's face turned pale and the palms of his hands clammy. Do not say it is over between us, he prayed.

Glorfindel resumed speaking. "Lord Elrond called me to task this morning. He is not happy with our relationship and was upset that I took you to my bed. He forbade me to see you and to that end planned to send me to the Grey Havens."

Nothing Lindir had imagined prepared him for Glorfindel's statement. The thought that Lord Elrond, one he thought of almost as a father, disapproved of his and Glorfindel's love. That hurt more than he could say! "Why, Glorfindel? Why would he not want us to be together? Does he think a minstrel not a match for his Seneschal?"

Glorfindel felt miserable knowing that he was the cause of Lindir's sorrow. "No, Lindir, it has naught to do with your rank or mine. I cannot tell you why he disapproves. What I want you to know Lindir, is that it matters not what Lord Elrond thinks or says. I will not give you up. His disapproval does not change the way I feel about you. He and I go back a long ways and when I returned from the dead, I swore an oath to the Valar that I would protect him and his family. Only with permission from them would I ever break that oath. But Varda gave me that permission when she told me to follow my heart. It was with her blessing that I revealed my feelings to you. You are more important to me than life itself.

"Elrond believes he has reason to keep us apart and he was furious that I thought to disobey his command. For I told him immediately that I would not go, that I would not leave you. I meant every word, Lindir. So much that I threatened a fight if he were to come between us.

"You must understand Lindir. Lord Elrond and I can say much to each other that others would not dare. But never have I threatened him before. He was already furious with me and that just fueled the flames. He spoke then of Imladris' protection and he blamed me for the security lapse. He was right, Lindir. It was due to my neglect that a force of men breached our borders and by rights I should have stepped down from my position. But I did not have the chance, for he already made the decision. But I carried it further than that. In the heat of the moment, I resigned."

"Because of me? You broke your oath to protect and serve Lord Elrond and Imladris? You resigned because of me? Glorfindel, please tell me this is not true." Lindir could not believe what he had just been told.

"No Lindir, I resigned for reasons more than that. Lord Elrond has no right to interfere in my personal life. I served as seneschal, not vassal. As to the other, what happened yesterday should have been prevented. I no longer deserve the position of Commander. Captain Naldor should take my place and I step down to his, but I fear I would also fail in that standing. Elves may not age as men, but they do age. I am an old Elf, Lindir. It is time for someone with fresh ideas to take my place. So you see, I may have made the decision in anger, but it is for the best."

"You are wrong, Glorfindel!" Lindir replied, still not believing what he had just heard. "You must go to Lord Elrond and plead with him to give you back command. Imladris needs you as its protector. I know how the guardians feel, for I am one of them. We wish to follow you, not Captain Naldor. You cannot let this stand!"

"My pride will not allow me to do that," Glorfindel admitted. "Captain Naldor is a good Elf. He will not let Imladris down."

Their discussion was broken when two Elves simultaneously appeared at the library entrance. Haldir had come seeking Lindir and Commander Naldor, Glorfindel. Finding both in what appeared to be private conversation, they hesitated to interrupt. It was Glorfindel who noticed them and beckoned them over.

Commander Naldor, newly advanced in position, deferred to the Marchwarden, allowing him to speak first. "Lindir?" Haldir said hesitantly, "I can return later if you prefer?"

Lindir was about to tell Haldir to do so, when Glorfindel spoke. "Go with Haldir, Lindir, It is important that I speak with Captain Naldor. We will continue our discussion another time."

Lindir was torn. On one hand, he was reluctant to leave Glorfindel's side, especially after all he had just heard. But on the other, he knew Captain Naldor, perhaps better than Glorfindel himself. If anyone could talk the Elda into changing his mind, Naldor was a good bet. For Lindir knew the Captain had been happy in his former position. Naldor did not actively seek to climb higher, he was proud to work under Glorfindel. If Lindir guessed correctly, Naldor would press the ancient warrior to retract his resignation.

With a squeeze to Glorfindel's shoulder, Lindir rose from his chair and addressed Haldir. "They must talk. Glorfindel, I will seek you out later tonight."

"Are you sure?" Haldir questioned, looking at both Lindir and Glorfindel. When both nodded their agreement, the Marchwarden escorted his friend from the room.

"My Lord," Naldor said with a sigh, "Never did I wish this to happen."

"You have heard, Haldir, of Glorfindel's resignation?" Lindir asked the Marchwarden as soon as they left the library.

"Erestor told me," Haldir replied. "That is the reason Captain Naldor wished to speak with Glorfindel. Lord Elrond asked him to take command of the guardians."

"That was to be expected." Lindir said. "Glorfindel has made a grave mistake, Haldir. I asked him to rethink his decision, to ask Lord Elrond to reinstate him. But he will not even consider it. He feels at fault for the attack, believes he is old and set in his ways, feels that his resignation was for the best. But the guardians will not see it that way. This is going to effect morale."

"I know Lindir," Haldir said, "but there is not much you can do besides offer Glorfindel your support. His is too proud to back down and so is Lord Elrond. Once their anger has cooled they may reassess the situation. They both have the same goal, the welfare of Imladris. I think in time Lord Elrond will take him back."

"Do you think I should speak to Lord Elrond, Haldir?" Lindir asked. "This whole mess happened because of me."

"No, stay out of it, Lindir. Lord Elrond is not upset with you, only with Glorfindel. Do not fan the flames. Let them die of their own accord."

"If you think that is the best way to handle it, Haldir, I will take your advice, but I cannot help feeling guilty."

"It is time to eat. We can finish our discussion in the dining hall," Haldir replied. "That is why I was looking for you in the first place. If you would prefer not to sit at Elrond's table we could dine in my room."

Lindir sighed. "I will have to face Lord Elrond sooner or later, I may as well do so now."

The rest of the walk to the dining hall was made in silence, each lost in his own thought.

Lindir would have preferred to dine in Haldir's room, for in spite of what he said, it would be awkward meeting with Elrond. But it was not every day that the Marchwarden came to Imladris and Lindir with all his problems had monopolized most of the time Haldir had spent here. There were only two days left of his stay and Lindir wanted him to enjoy them. Today he would do what Haldir wanted. Unconsciously, he sighed again.

Now that the shock of the morning's event had faded, he was able to think more clearly. So much of this was his fault. Maybe not directly, but his fault all the same. He had spoiled Haldir's holiday, lost Glorfindel the position he had held for millennia, not to mention the respect and admiration that went with it, and disappointed Lord Elrond. He was sure he was the last elf that Elrond would wish to see paired with his seneschal. Glorfindel was a Lord in his own right. Lindir was an orphan who had a home only through the grace of Lord Elrond. The more Lindir thought on the events of the past days, the more melancholy he became.

Haldir too was lost in thought, reflecting on Erestor. In all the time he had known the Elf, and that had been a long time, he had rarely seen the advisor show such strong emotion as he had this morning. Erestor had left the room in distress. It had taken Haldir by surprise. In some ways, many took Erestor for granted. He was the epitome of efficiency, handling his duties with such ease that most did not realize the extent of the burdens he took on everyday. But everyone had a limit, and between the emotional dramas played out these past few days and the added responsibility of running Imladris almost single-handedly, it was not surprising that a crack had appeared in Erestor's normally solid facade.

Haldir wondered if the advisor would be present at the dining table and was a bit surprised as he and Lindir entered the room, to see Erestor seated in his customary place to the right of Lord Elrond. The twins, Elladan and Elrohir were the only others at the head table besides the two lords.

"Marchwarden Haldir, Lindir," Lord Elrond acknowledged the two as they took their seats. When each had made their greeting and it was apparent that no one else would be joining the group, Lord Elrond signaled the dining staff to begin serving.

With the morning's events so fresh in the minds of all present, an uncomfortable silence marked the beginning of the meal. It was broken only by the occasional request to pass the breadbasket or to voice the choice of dinner wine. Haldir, although on holiday, still represented Lothlórien, and felt obliged to make an effort to show his appreciation for the hospitality he had been accorded.

"This is an excellent wine, Lord Elrond," he spoke, "Is it one that is made here in Imladris?"

"I am glad it is to your taste, Haldir," Lord Elrond replied, "It was pressed from a new variety of grapes we have been experimenting with. I am fond of it myself."

Elladan had been watching his elders with narrowed eyes. He and Elrohir knew nothing of the events that had taken place earlier, but his senses told him all was not well between the adults. Erestor's eyes were red and it looked as if he had been crying. Haldir, who was normally cheerful and full of delightful stories, was unusually quiet, and Lindir looked as if he had lost his best friend. His father had a scowl on his face, the kind usually directed towards he and his brother when they got into mischief, but they had been on their best behavior all morning. He leaned over and whispered into his brother's ear. He and Elrohir continued their whispered conversation until Erestor took notice.

"Elladan, Elrohir," the advisor admonished, "It is not polite to tell secrets at the table.

"We were only wondering why your eyes are red, Erestor," said Elrohir. "It looks as if you have been crying. Is my father mad at you? Is that why he has a frown upon his face?"

"I am not angry with Erestor," Elrond told his sons. Then turning to the advisor he asked Erestor if he was feeling unwell.

"I am fine, Elrond," Erestor replied in a clipped voice. "If my eyes are red it is because I did not sleep well last night."

Silence reigned after Erestor's reply. Lindir moved his food around his plate with his fork, his appetite all but gone. Erestor did the same, although he took a bite now and then. Lord Elrond's face still held a fierce scowl and Elladan and Elrohir started their whispering again. Haldir uncomfortable with the silence, started to speak but one beat him to it.

"Ada?" Elladan asked. "If you are not mad at Lord Erestor, are you mad at Haldir and Lindir?" You look terribly angry!"

"No, Elladan," his father replied. "I am not upset with Lindir or Haldir." Elrond actually said this a bit louder than intended, and the gruffness in his voice made Elladan cringe.

"If you are not mad at Erestor or Haldir or Lindir, are you mad at Lord Glorfindel?" Elladan asked, knowing that his Ada was mad at somebody.

Lord Elrond was caught. He did not want to tell a lie, so he chose to keep quiet. He should have known better.

"Are you mad at Lord Glorfindel, Ada?" Elrohir asked when his father did not answer Elladan. "Are you mad because Lord Glorfindel is not going to be a warrior anymore?

"What do you mean, Elrohir!" Elladan exclaimed. "Who told you that?"

"I heard the maids talking about it in the laundry," Elrohir said smugly. "They said that Glorfindel was going to quit being a warrior and go away and that would be a shame because then he could not marry Lindir. They also said that Erestor was crying in his room and that was because he was in love with Haldir and Haldir did not love him back and the maids felt sorry for him because he was lonely. They also said..."

"Elrohir!" Lord Elrond all but shouted.

"Yes, Ada?" Elrohir said meekly.

If Lord Elrond was not upset before, he was definitely angry now. Elrohir had turned pale and sunk low in his seat. Elladan grasped his brother's hand for support. Both elflings knew what that look on their Ada's face meant. One or both of them was in trouble!

"I have told you many times before not to repeat the gossip you hear from the servants! You have no way of knowing if what they say is true and you could hurt someone's feelings if you tell tales."

Lindir and Erestor both had been embarrassed by Elrohir's words and were looking downwards at their plates. Only Haldir showed no expression, but then Haldir had two younger brothers and was used to such outbursts.

"I am sorry, Ada," Elrohir said, his lower lip trembling slightly. "I promise not to do so again."

"You and Elladan will stay in your room the rest of the afternoon," Elrond said to both of the twins. "Maybe this will teach you a lesson."

"But Ada, I was not in the laundry room and I did not repeat gossip," Elladan protested.

"No, Elladan, you did not, but perhaps if you are confined to your room with Elrohir you will not be tempted to do so in the future."

"But that is not fair," Elladan whined.

"To your rooms, now!" Lord Elrond commanded. "No dessert!"

The twins wasted no time exiting the table and scurrying from the dining hall. They did not agree with their father's punishment, but when he used that tone of voice they knew better than to disobey.

"I apologize for my sons, Lord Elrond told the others at the table. If you will excuse me, I will retire to my chambers. I have developed a splitting headache."

When no one at the table objected, Elrond rose from his chair and quickly left the dining hall.

"Erestor," Haldir asked softly after Elrond had left, "are you in love with me?"

Erestor gave the Marchwarden a frosty stare. "I am in love with no one Haldir, and even if I was it would be none of your business. You should learn a lesson from the twins and not listen to idle gossip!"

"My apologies, Erestor," Haldir said with a smile. I did not mean to pry."

"Yes you did, Haldir, otherwise you would not have asked that question," Erestor snapped. "If you will excuse me, I do not care for dessert and will take my leave. I have duties I must attend to."

"As you wish, Erestor," Haldir replied. "We will see you here later at dinner. I hope you will be in a more gracious mood."

"Humph," was Erestor's reply as he too, rose from his chair and left the hall.

"Well, there is no point in staying, Lindir." Haldir said, "Obviously, neither of us cares for dessert. Let us make a trip to the market and see if we can find your gift for Glorfindel. That time fast approaches. Perhaps, that will take your mind off unpleasant thoughts.

Lindir forced himself to look cheerful. "If that is what you truly wish, Haldir." Lindir would have preferred to back to his room. But he owed the Marchwarden for his kindness and it would be rude to refuse.

"To be honest, Lindir, I have not yet found a gift for the one whose name I drew. So if you are game to go, I shall enjoy your company. However, if you would prefer to wait for Glorfindel, we could put it off until tomorrow."

"No, Haldir, let us go now," Lindir replied. "for if I return empty-handed, I will not be as inclined to worry."

"Then let us go, my friend," Haldir said with a grin, and with the minstrel by his side, they set off for the market.


	24. All for the Sake of Revenge

_"Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,_  
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,  
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,  
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne..." 

_J.R.R. Tolkien_

 

-The Prisoner

He was not uncomfortable, for they had removed the ropes binding his ankles and wrists. In fact, he had free reign of the cell, the small space that was now his temporary home. There was a mattress for sleeping that was not too lumpy and the floor was clean swept, not damp and dank like those of the dungeons in Gondor. Even the food was palatable, for the tray they left for him had been laden with fresh fruit, warm bread and a bowl of thick soup. But that was the way of Elves, he thought bitterly. He had been well cared for when he lived in Lothlórien, provided with a warm bed, an abundance of food, education and training. But there was no warmth in the eyes of his kin, nor kindness in their words, at least not for him. He hated all elves, but mostly he hated the fair-haired Silvans, those like the Marchwarden.

Oh, he knew Haldir o Lórien. The arrogant Elf epitomized those of his kind. Haldir too, was an orphan but Haldir and his brothers were favored by the Lord and Lady, treated above their station. The Half-elf knew, for he once held Haldir's younger brother in high regard. Rúmil had been one of the few that regarded him kindly, overlooked his background. It was Rúmil who persuaded the other elflings to let him join in play, taking up for him when he was shunned or bullied. He had trusted Rúmil, confided in him, considered him a friend. When he reached his majority, his feelings for Rúmil changed from friendship to adulation, for Rúmil was all he could ever hope to be.

Not long after, he decided to tell Rúmil of his devotion. He waylaid his friend after archery practice and suggested a walk in the woods. Rúmil had looked at him oddly, but smiled and agreed. As they walked, he had poured his heart out to the beautiful elf, hoping against hope that Rúmil felt the same about him. But Rúmil had not. Rúmil had been kind and sympathetic, but it was the conversation he heard later that made him hate the elf. The conversation Rúmil had with his older brother, Haldir. He could still remember every detail.

He was on his way to the river to bathe when he heard a familiar voice in conversation with another. Curious, he moved silently to the arbour wherein the two stood and hid behind an overgrown shrub.

"You are too young to enter into a relationship, Rúmil," Haldir frowned at his younger brother. "Who is this Elf of which you speak? Is he apprenticed? What of his family?"

"Rúmil laughed. "Do not fret so, Haldir, I did not return his advances. Vand is not an Elf. He is peredhel, one of the orphans that used to join my friends and I sometimes in our games. The others would make fun of him but you taught me not to judge, so I tried to treat him kindly."

"That was considerate of you, Rúmil," Haldir replied, I am pleased that you spared his feelings, but there is a limit to what one should do out of pity for another. That you encouraged him enough to confess his ardour, worries. Are you in love with this Vand Half-elven?"

"Honestly Haldir, I do not seek him as a lover!" Rúmil exclaimed, his exasperation with his older brother rising to the surface. He sighed and continued in a softer voice. "Haldir, I barely know him. He was different in manner than most of my friends, perhaps due to his heritage, but we were young and did not understand such. All we knew was he was trouble, for he called our games childish and dared us to do that which was dangerous. If we did not, he would take our possessions and destroy them out of spite. He used coarse language and often had the sickness of Men, a drippy nose and cough. During Rhîw (1) he dressed in so many layers of clothing, he looked three times larger than he was. Yet, he was kind to me, so I could not fault him as the others. Occasionally, he would confide in me and ask why he was so shunned. I had no answer, Haldir, and could only commiserate. As we matured, he kept to himself or ran with those of older years.

Haldir, I did nothing to warrant his feelings. His words and actions took me completely by surprise. It has been long since we interacted. In truth, there is that about him which unnerves, frightens.

"Stay away from him, Rúmil. If what you say is true, he has problems that he must work out before he can have a satisfactory relationship. You are too young to concern yourself with love. If he bothers you again, I will speak to him."

It was then the tears started, the hurt, the rage. He ran sobbing from his place of hiding. All Vand wished was to run as far as he could from the elf that broke his heart. Rúmil was no different than the others. Worse, for Rúmil had pretended to be his friend then scorned him behind his back. Rúmil's brother was no better. Who was Haldir to judge him? An elf he had never met. He seethed with the injustice.

Rúmil had been the only reason he stayed in this hateful city and now that he had seen Rúmil's true character, he would not stay a moment longer. He would leave tonight. If he could not find solace in the world of Elves, he would seek it in his father's world, in Gondor, the kingdom of the south.

-Gondor

It had been a long road and he went through much misery at first. But soon he discovered that Men had a taste for that which was rare and beautiful, and Elves were among that which met those requirements. He sought relationships then not for love but for gain and he learned much about the Secondborn. He held secrets of which most Men were not aware. Secrets that if revealed, would give him all he ever wanted. Secrets that would hurt the ones who had caused him such grief and it was with this knowledge that he began to formulate his plan.  
"...In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."(2)

Vand knew the story well. How Sauron came to forge the One Ring, the Ring that controlled all others. Able to change his shape, the Maiar journeyed to Eregion and came amongst the Elves in fair disguise. He called himself Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, and he led the Elves to believe that with his help they could make their new home almost to the like of the one they had forsaken. But in Lindon, the High King Gil-galad and Master Elrond did not trust Annatar and they sent warning of him to their kin. Annatar negated the warning, saying they were jealous and did not wish for Eregion to become as beautiful and fair as Lindon and the Eregion Elves heeded his word and ignored the warning.

Ost-in-Edhil was the home of Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the People of the Jewel-smiths. It was they who were most enamored of the Lord of Gifts. And he taught them much, for he was once a student of Aulë, the great smith. With his help, they crafted many Rings of great power. Rings they believed would be used to nurture and care for the land and its people. They trusted Annatar and as they learned from him, so he learned also from them. But later, he left Eregion and returned to Mordor and using all that he had learned, secretly forged a Ring of his own, one with power to rule the others. It was forged in the fires of Orodruin, known later as Mount Doom. Only in its fire could the Ring ever be unmade. Alas, when he placed it upon his finger the Elves felt its force and were aware of what he had done. They knew then he could control them and they were wise and did not wear the rings they had made.

His plans thwarted, Sauron demanded the Elves give him the rings they still had, claiming it was his hand that figured most in their making. When the Elves refused, he gathered his forces and waged war against them. But among the smiths of Ost-in-Edhil was one who surpassed all others, Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor. It was he who had crafted the last three of the Rings of Power; those not touched by Sauron's hand. These Rings the Elves hid, for they could slow the decay of time and although they could not be used while Sauron held the One, the Elves did not wish him to have them. Vilya, the Ring of Air and Narya, the Ring of Fire, Celebrimbor gave to High King Gil-galad, Nenya, the Ring of Water, to Lady Galadriel. It was these rings Sauron wanted most of all, for besides his own, they were the most powerful.

Dark times reigned and there was constant battle between Sauron and the Elves. Eregion was destroyed and Celebrimbor killed. Elrond Half-elven built a refuge hidden among cliffs, Imladris, a safe haven not only for Elves, but also for all the free peoples of Arda. Though, it was mostly Elves that fled there.

Through trickery, deceit and might, Sauron was able to obtain almost all of the Rings except the three he wanted most. Any intention of good he once harbored in his heart became lost in his quest for power. To that end, he gave Elven-rings to the other races that peopled Middle Earth, seven to the Dwarf-lords and nine to the Kings of Men. Because he had a hand in their making, he was able to control those that wielded the Rings so they and those under them turned to the darkness.

The Dwarves, who were brought into being by the Vala Aulë, had Aulë's protection and could not be mastered. But the rings fed their greed and in their lust for treasure they amassed huge mounds of jewels and riches under which they placed their Rings. Later, the mounds fell to the great dragons, the rings either consumed by dragon fire or seized once again by Sauron.

Of the Kings of Men, six Rings were given to kings on Arda. They were weak and came swiftly under Sauron's influence, strengthening his powers and puissance. The other three he gave to Kings of the Edain. Yet, Sauron was not satisfied. His goal was to rule all and for this he needed to defeat not only the free peoples, but also the Valar. He renamed himself Lord of the Earth and together with his fell minions set upon the good peoples of Middle Earth and they feared him and called him the Dark Lord.

Outside of Arda, in Númenor, dwelt the Edain, those whom lesser Men had once called Gods. They were friends of the Elves and had aligned with Gil-galad in the fight against the darkness. It was they, who in the past were the only one of their kindred to fight on the side of the Valar and the Elves against the evil of Morgoth, he who had once been Sauron's master.

For this, the Valar gave them many gifts: long life, prosperity and a home separate from Arda unto which only Valinor was fairer. But upon acceptance of these gifts, there was one condition. That the Númenóreans would not venture westwards toward Aman. From that place they were banned and long did the Edain honor that condition. Any exploration they undertook was ever away from the West.

In all ways they prospered and grew and when they saw the destruction that Sauron had wrought on Arda, they challenged him and he knew he was not strong enough to defeat them. So, he surrendered and lived as a hostage among them. But this, too, was part of his plan. After a while, he gained the ear of the King, became his advisor. Little by little, he began to sow seeds of discontent, questioning the Valar and their gifts. The Númenóreans listened and became jealous of the Elves and those who granted such gifts, believing their kind, too, should be privy to Valinor. Then they cursed the Valar and Sauron fed their anger and disquiet until finally, they joined him in an attack upon the Undying Lands.

But that was their downfall and his, for in retaliation the Valar decimated Númenor and Sauron was caught in the chaos, his body destroyed. Yet, his spirit arose and returned to Arda, to the land of Mordor.

In the Dark lord's absence, Gil-galad had increased his hold over much of the land where Sauron once held sway. Those Númenóreans who had remained faithful to the Valar and were able to escape the destruction of their kin fled in exile to Arda. Their leader was Elendil and together with his two sons, Isildur and Anárion, he established the realms of Arnor and Gondor.

Centuries passed. The nine Kings of Men to whom Sauron had given Rings faded and became wraiths, lost in a shadow world, specters that had no choice but to do as Sauron bid. Nazgûl they were named, Ringwraiths, harbingers of doom. Sauron once again called fell and foul together and gathered a great force. With this army and the Nazgûl under his control, he attacked Minas Ithil in Gondor, the city governed by Isildur. Isildur escaped and sought his father, Elendil. Anárion in Osgiliath held forth against Sauron for a while, but Sauron increased his strength and Anárion feared without help his kingdom would be taken.

Neither the Eldar nor the Dúnedain could withstand the might of Sauron alone. In a desperate move, Elendil and Gil-galad met and formed a host of Elves and Men known thereafter as the Last Alliance. After much trial the Alliance met the forces of Sauron on Dagorlad, the plain before the gates of Mordor. There they fought a great battle in which the Elves and Men were victorious and so they pressed on to Barad-dûr, Sauron's great fortress. There they laid siege against him for seven years.

During this time Anárion and many others fair and brave were killed. Finally, the siege forced Sauron's hand and he came out himself upon the field. Gil-galad and Elendil fell by his hand. Then Isildur, grasping his father's broken sword, smote the One Ring from Sauron's hand and Sauron was destroyed. Or so many thought, for though weak, his spirit survived and hid.

Sometime before or during the War of the Last Alliance, the Elven King Gil-galad gave the Ring Vilya to Lord Elrond. Of the third Ring nothing was known, it was either given to another or it passed from knowledge, of which occurrence, Vand was not sure.(3)

But all this was a secret known only to the Elves. For the One Ring, that which controlled the others, Isildur kept for himself in spite of the plea by Lord Elrond and others that it be destroyed. And it became his bane, for he was ambushed by Orcs at Gladden Field. In an effort to save himself, he placed the Ring upon his finger and became invisible. He jumped into the river hoping to swim away, but The One Ring slipped from his hand and fell into the water and was lost. Isildur was revealed and shot dead.

-Centuries Later

When Vand arrived in Gondor from Lórien, the ravages of the Great War were still vastly evident. There was a shortage of food and supplies and people were hungry. Many were without homes. Of the Men who had left to fight, countless had not returned and never would, for they had died defending the freedom of their loved ones. Sauron had left his mark upon the land and it would be centuries upon centuries before it was erased.

Vand bade his time and worked on his plans of revenge. Certain men, he befriended and once he had earned their trust, he began to confide to them that which hardened their hearts against the Elves. For the Secondborn were unaware of the Rings of Power created by the Elves, and Vand played this hand for all it was worth. From his lips, he let known to a select group the mistake the Elves had made in trusting Annatar. When they realized that but for the Elves, war could have been averted, they became enraged and wanted nothing more than revenge. All the hardship, all the loss of life and limb they blamed, with what they felt was righteous cause, on the Firstborn. In fact, it was all Vand could do to keep them from marching immediately against the Elves. It took all his knowledge and strength to make them bide their time and in that time Vand taught them Elven ways and Elven fighting techniques. They strategized and formulated a battle plan, which was to first take Imladris. From there they could effectively attack both Lothlórien and Greenwood the Great. Their goal was to eliminate the Elves forever, to sweep them from Arda.

"And but for one Balrog Slayer--by the horn, it would have worked!" Vand swore to himself as he paced back and forth in his cell. But he was not worried, for he had learned much during his stay in the city of Men. The Elves were soft and loath to kill one of their kind, even one who was only Half-elven. He need only wait and plan his escape. That it would be successful, he had no doubt. So until that opportunity came, he made himself as comfortable as he could. Let the Elves of Imladris believe he was mad, perhaps he was. But for the moment, he was content.

-The Market - Imladris

The Market as usual was bustling. They had sampled wares and seen and touched many lovely creations, but neither had yet to make a purchase. Haldir had paid special attention to the potter's booth, but he did not see the dark-haired Elf from his last visit. Instead another was seated at the potter's wheel and he was not nearly as interesting or seductive. Haldir thought Lindir might notice his furtive looks, but Lindir's thoughts seemed far away. The Elf had been melancholy and quiet ever since they left the dining hall. But when asked what troubled him, Lindir denied such frame of mind, saying he was fine.

They had once again reached that place in the market where the farriers and smiths plied their trade. The sound of the many varied hammers striking against metal was deafening. They watched as a smith pulled a glowing bar of iron from the flames. He placed it against an anvil and in rhythmic strokes began to shape the metal with his great hammer. The white-hot iron threw off sparks as the bar began to expand under the hammer strokes. When the smith had obtained the shape he wanted, he heated the iron again until it glowed with yellow fire then quickly quenched it in a bucket of oil. The heated metal sang as it met the cool liquid.

They left the smith to his work and continued their perusal of the market. Farther down were the jewel-smiths that worked with precious metals. Haldir watched entranced as a Dwarf with a braided beard carefully set a large, blue stone into a silver setting. With a long smooth tool, he shaped a thin piece of metal around the sides of the stone, pressing the bezel down until it just touched the surface of the stone and held the gem in tightly. The pressure of the tool compressed the metal and burnished it to a lovely sheen. Other pieces of crafted silver were set out on a cloth of velvet on a shelf next to the Dwarf. There was one in the shape of a Mallorn leaf that Haldir greatly admired, but when he asked the price, it was much more than he was willing to pay. Nodding to the jewel-smith, they made their way to the next booth.

This one was larger and contained three Elves who were immersed in their work. One stood in front of a brick oven and was placing items that appeared to be covered with colored powder into its interior. Each piece rested on points that projected upwards from ceramic trivets. Another Elf stood at a large washtub on a stand. In the center of the tub was a metal arm attached to a shaft. At the end of the arm was an odd shaped porcelain bowl with a hole in its front. Attached to the bowl, centered with the hole, was a cylindrical container filled with plaster. The jeweler was heating nuggets of a dull gray colored metal in the bowl with a hot flame. When the nuggets melted, they formed a shiny rolling liquid with a mirrored convex surface. While they watched, the jewel-smith released a pin that was holding the arm in place. The arm spun inside the tub, the motion causing the molten metal to draw into the cylinder. When the motion stopped, the smith used a pair of iron tongs to remove the cylinder, dumping it into a vat of water.

They continued to watch as the smith removed a similar cylinder from another bucket of water. With a metal rod, he began scraping what was left of the plaster from the container. Revealed, was a miniature tree of dull metal with odd shaped leaves. He cut the leaves from the branches of the tree and tossed the trunk into a box. Noticing his audience, he smiled and brought one of the leaves over for them to inspect. It was not a leaf, but a ring. At the base of the ring was a small nub, where he had cut it from the stem. Haldir asked why so much metal was wasted. The smith laughed.

"It is never wasted, my friend. It can be melted and used again. This dull metal is silver, but I would use the same procedure working with gold or mithril. The tree form is used to make channels in the mold which allows the metal to flow. He picked up a tree that was made of wax. We carve the items we wish to make out of wax. To each wax trunk, we attach a wax branch at the end of which we secure what we wish to cast. Notice how all the branches point upwards. That is because metal cannot flow backwards. The very base of the trunk was cone-shaped.

"We attach the cone of the wax tree to a flat base. Then we place a hollow cylinder over it, making sure the tree is centered. The cylinder is filled with plaster, allowed to harden, then the flat base is removed and we bake the cylinder in the kiln. The heat vaporizes the wax, leaving the shape of the tree in the plaster. The cooled cylinder, we place next to the crucible on the shaft, lining the cone-shaped depression with the hole in the crucible. When the arm is released, molten metal flows from the crucible into the mold, up the trunk through the branches into the leaves. Of course, they are just empty channels as the wax is gone. That is how we cast items of metal.

Lindir had been looking at the jewelry on display when a certain piece caught his eye. He pointed it out to the jeweller who placed it in his hand. When Haldir saw what he had found, he smiled. "It is perfect, Lindir."

"Oh, Haldir, I have found my gift for Glorfindel. Let us hope it is not too expensive"

He looked to the jewel-smith who smiled. They haggled back and forth over the price but soon coin was exchanged. The jeweler placed the piece in a lined box and Lindir put it in his pocket. Out of curiosity, he asked the jewelsmith which of them had made the piece. The smith laughed. "I cast the piece, good sir. My partner at the kiln decorated it with enamel and fired it to hardness. My other partner, whom you have not met, engraved the design. We all three had a part in its making.

"Fascinating." Lindir replied. "This is a special gift and its recipient shall treasure it greatly, at least that is my hope."

"That is my goal," The jeweler replied with a smile, "When it is met, I am happy. Enjoy the rest of your time at the market."

"You can be assured that I shall," Lindir replied.

Lindir was in a better mood when they left the jeweler's stall. Haldir was glad, for he had begun to worry about his friend. Lindir had been moody and remote during most of their time here and Haldir was please to now see a smile upon his face.

"You have not found your gift yet, Haldir," Lindir told the Marchwarden. "Is there some place special you would care to look?"

"Hmm," Haldir replied, a finger to his chin. I have a few ideas but am unable to make up my mind. I shall think on them the night and return here tomorrow. Do you wish to stay longer or are you ready to leave?"

"That is up to you, Haldir. I have found Glorfindel's gift. You make the decision."

"Let us head back to the entrance, perhaps I shall find what I seek on the way."

"That suits me fine, Haldir," Lindir replied. So they turned around and started to walk slowly back towards the market entrance. Lindir was quiet, but he did reply to Haldir's conversation. They spoke mostly of the items on display and were content to stroll lazily for there was no particular reason to hurry. Something caught Haldir's eye at a very busy stall and he excused himself from Lindir's company to look further. Lindir smiled but did not follow Haldir, instead walked a few steps to a stand displaying fresh flowers. He bent to sniff a bouquet when he overheard two Elves' gossipy discourse.

"Aye, Ganadir, I heard he resigned because of the minstrel, Lindir. I do not understand what he sees in the elf. He has a lovely voice, but is so shy, scared of his own shadow. Not an elf to who I thought Glorfindel would be attracted."

The speaker emitted a derisive laugh and his partner in conversation replied.

"From what I have heard, Lindir was a problem when he first came here. He was traumatized, mute and could not remember the circumstance that placed him in that condition. They kept him in the healing house for almost a season. When he recovered, Lord Erestor assigned him work in the stable. But Lord Gildor claimed Lindir was his nephew, so he was taken into Elrond's house, treated as a foster son. But Lindir did not care for his uncle. He refused to accept his heritage and title. Refused Lord Gildor, the audacity of the elf! Thought him self above the wandering elves, I suppose. Lord Elrond granted his wish to stay in Imladris. Perhaps, Lindir believed it more worth his while to stay. After all, it is no small honour to be favoured by Elrond. But that is not all. His voice may be lovely but he refused to join the Harper's Guild, instead demanded to live in the manor. A nervy one if you ask me, with delusions of grandeur!"

"He is a mouse. Glorfindel is a fool to pine over such an elf. But you know what they say about the silent ones. Perhaps, he pleases the lord in bed. What else has he to offer?"

It took all Lindir had to stay where he was, although he pressed deeper into the crowd so the speakers could not see him. Some of what they said was not true but much of it hit home. Was he really as selfish as they claimed? He *had* refused Lord Gildor's offer and refused to join the Harper's Guild. He had run away when he did not get what he wanted. Ai, the Elves were right, he was a mouse, not a good match for Glorfindel at all. He was living a lie and he was ashamed.

"I found what I sought, Lindir." Haldir said from behind him. "If you are ready, let us go."

Lindir turned and looked sadly at Haldir, at his hazel eyes so thoughtful and kind. "Haldir, I am appreciative of all you have done for me these past few days, but there are only a few more left before you return to Lothlórien. I have monopolized your time, placed my happiness before yours. I feel guilty for treating you this way. If there is something you care to do, tell me. Do not feel pressured that you have to spend your time here with me."

"And what brought this on, Lindir?" Haldir replied, "Have confidence in yourself. I enjoy your company. If you knew me better, you would know that I usually do what pleases me and right now it pleases me to be here with you." At this, the Marchwarden grasped Lindir by the shoulders and looked straight into Lindir's blue eyes.

"To be candid, Lindir, you have qualities of which you are obviously not aware. You are breathtakingly beautiful and do not look at the ground when I tell you that. You may not notice, but eyes follow you when you walk. Many appreciative glances come your way but you never notice, because you do not care to see. You have nothing to be ashamed of, mellonen (4). Cast aside your shyness. You are an intelligent conversationalist, a good listener and a skilled warrior. Look at yourself in the same light as others see you.

"Do not underestimate Lords Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel. They each chose you as someone they could trust to work with. They are some of the most respected Elves on Arda. Erestor obviously values your work and you know Glorfindel does! Do not take his love lightly, for he has chosen you above all others. Whether you realize it or not, you are the envy of many for that choice. Garion, Tambor, and Tebring think the world of you and while you may deny it, you are one of the most talented musicians in Imladris. Did you believe your name was not known also in Lothlórien? All there appreciate your skill.

"You have many qualities of which you can be proud. Do not think yourself inferior, Lindir, for you are far from that. Cherish the good; do not dwell on your past. Rise above what you believe to be your humble beginnings and hold your head up. Is not Lord Gildor your uncle? Whether you have parents here or no, matters not. They did not abandon you willingly. Be proud of them and remember that one day you will find them again in Valinor. What happened to you Lindir that makes you wish to hide from the world? There are many who would give anything to have half of what you possess?"

Lindir could only stare at his friend. Did Haldir not understand? Lindir was not like other Elves. No matter what he did, no matter how well he did it, he could never overcome his past. It mattered not that he had noble blood, he was not noble. His father had been overcome by humans, his mother raped and broken by the same and Lindir had done nothing! He had watched them both die and not lifted a finger to prevent their deaths!

After the fëa of his parents had left this world and the men had loosed their hold on him, he had done everything the men asked. He had done so because he was too much of a coward to die. He had begged for his life. Did not Gil-galad die for the sake of his kin? Would not Glorfindel or Haldir give their last breath to save those they loved and cared for? That was the way of Elves and therein was Lindir's shame. He wore that dishonor like an iron collar around his neck. No matter what he did in this lifetime, it would never erase his guilt nor break that shackle. Oh, but he was a fool to think he deserved Glorfindel's love or Haldir's friendship or any of that which he had acquired at Imladris. He had thought he could bury his past deep inside, that as long as he never spoke of it, it would cease to exist. But he had done those things and he could not undo them. He would never sail to Valinor, for how could he ever face his parents. They knew the truth of his actions and Lindir knew if his friends ever found out, they would despise him forever.

Lindir felt the shame he had kept buried for so long come to the surface. He had tricked his friends. He had asked of them that which he could never give in return, honesty and trust and he hated himself for his deceit. He did not deserve happiness. He was no better than the prisoner that sat in the cell under Imladris guard, for did they not both share the same experience? Glorfindel had called the prisoner scum, evil. Why would the Balrog Slayer think Lindir any different?

He could not stay in Imladris any longer. For the first time in his life, he would do what was honorable, leave his kin and spend the rest of his life in solitude and reflection. It would not atone for his transgression, but at least he would never have cause to repeat his actions, to hurt or deceive anyone else.

He looked at the kindly Marchwarden with regret. "You know me not, Haldir, nor does anyone here. You believe me honest and trustworthy but you have no idea what I have done in my past. Never shall I be the elf you paint in your pictures, the elf that Glorfindel believes that I am. I am a liar, a sham. There is nothing that I can do to change my past. I am a fool, Haldir, a fool to think I could erase the stain upon my skin.

"Forgive me, my friend for what I must do. Speak with Glorfindel and tell him of my love for him, a love I may no longer share. Yet love him I shall, always. Glorfindel deserves better. To think, I believed I could bind myself to him. Break my leaving to him gently, Haldir. Treat him with care, for he is deserving of that. I am too much of a coward to tell him to his face that what we have is over, that I am leaving Imladris."

Haldir was left speechless. He could not imagine what had come over Lindir. The young Elf was acting so out of character. What Lindir said made no sense. Before Haldir was over his shock at the abrupt change in personality, Lindir had turned and fled into the crowd. Without hesitation, Haldir took off after him.

1\. Rhîw - The season of winter  
2\. The verse excerpt at the beginning of this chapter and here is Tolkien's.  
3\. Gil-galad gave the ring to Círdan the Shipwright, who later gave it to Gandalf. But of this, Vand is not aware.  
4\. mellonamin - my friend

References used in this chapter were The Silmarillion, edited by Christopher Tolkien and Michael Martinez's article, Middle Earth Connections: Lore of the Rings,--July 14, 2000.

I especially wish to thank Lalaith Nienóri, my beta, for her help and endless research and for suggesting the sub plot for Vand, the Half-elf. This would be a far less interesting story without her input!


	25. Lost and Found

Haldir worried. It was as if Lindir had vanished. One moment he had been hot on Lindir's trail and the next it was stone cold. Tracking an Elf like Lindir through the woods should have been easy. After all, Haldir was a Marchwarden! How could Lindir have eluded him so thoroughly? There was not a blade of grass, bush, branch, or leaf disturbed that would indicate his passing. Even the trees were silent and could not or would not tell of Lindir's presence. Haldir had been searching now for hours and was ready to admit he needed help, most specifically Glorfindel's. But how was he to tell his long-time friend that Lindir had run, again? And what had caused the minstrel to act the way that he had? What deep dark secret did the Elf possess that made him believe he would be cast aside by his friends if it were revealed?

Haldir raised his hands in frustration. "Dragon fire!" He felt such a fool. Lindir had run, only the Valar knew why, just when Glorfindel needed him the most. Making up his mind, Haldir ran as fast as he could back to The Last Homely House. He had to find Glorfindel before Lindir left Imladris proper.

Glorfindel had only been in his room for a few moments when a breathless and wild-eyed Haldir burst through the door. "Glorfindel, it is Lindir," he managed to get out, "he has left, h-he is leaving Imladris!"

Before he could finish the last of his sentence, the ancient warrior had grasped Haldir's shoulders tightly with his large hands, shaking him in his effort to drag out more information.

"When, Haldir... when did he leave? Why? What happened?" Once Glorfindel was over his initial shock, he released his hands from the Marchwarden and hurriedly began strapping on his weapons. "Where last did you see him and which direction was he heading? Never mind, tell me on the way!"

Haldir related his last conversation with Lindir, the minstrel's unexpected flight and the efforts he had made to locate the Elf as they hurried down the hall and out of The Last Homely House, the wheels of Glorfindel's mind turning with each step they took.

"I have already sent a guardian to the stable and one to the gates, if any have seen him they shall inform us ," the Marchwarden finished.

"To the stables, Haldir." Glorfindel commanded. "He has such a head start, we shall never catch him on foot!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a guardian appeared leading Glorfindel's Asfaloth and Haldir's grey.

"My Lord Glorfindel, Marchwarden Haldir," the sentry said with a slight bow, "Lindir must have doubled back and headed for the stables. He passed through the gate riding his brown mare heading towards the Ford. I have provided a fully provisioned pack for each of you and Garion is organizing a search party."

Both Glorfindel and Haldir were already mounted and moving by the time the guardian finished speaking. "Inform Garion we ride for the Ford," Glorfindel yelled over his shoulder as he dug his knees into Asfaloth's side. Sensing his master's urgency the great white horse bunched his muscles and was soon flying down the path in a wild gallop with Haldir on his grey just a nose length behind.

Though one part of his mind kept a lookout for prints left by Lindir's horse, the other was racing over reasons why Lindir would have run. What was it Haldir had said? That Lindir had done something in his past that would cause his friends to look at him shamefully. Glorfindel could not think of any rumor or hint of such an action and he had known the minstrel since first he came to Imladris. Lindir had been but an elfling then and a traumatized one at that. The poor child had never regained his memories of his parents' death. Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor, and a few guardians were the only ones who knew what truly happened and they had sworn never to reveal those facts. Lindir believed in his heart that Orcs had caused the tragedy and that was for the best.

Bending low over Asfaloth's neck, Glorfindel urged Asfaloth to go faster. Although Lindir was a trained guardian, it was never a good idea to travel outside of the borders alone. Orcs, Wargs, wolves and Men were amongst the dangers one could come across unexpectedly, and even if the woods were clear of these enemies, there were other ways to get hurt. The thought of Lindir lying injured and helpless only made Glorfindel more anxious and determined to find his lover.

It was all Haldir could do to keep up with the warrior. His grey was a swift runner, bred for speed as were all the horses of Lórien, but Asfaloth was unique, the closest an Elven-bred stallion could be to the famed Mearas of Rohan. If Glorfindel kept up his maddening pace, he would not have the Marchwarden's protection when he arrived at the Bruinen crossing. But Haldir knew there was no point asking his friend to slow down. Glorfindel was on a quest and there would be no stopping him until he reached his goal, no reasoning with him either, the Lórien Elf thought with a grimace.

As if reading Haldir's mind, Glorfindel urged Asfaloth to an even faster pace, leaving Haldir and his mount in the dust. A fleeting glimpse of the seneschal's golden hair and Asfaloth's white tail streaming in the wind was the last the Marchwarden saw of the pair as they passed from view around a bend in the road. Haldir knew he was not that far behind, so losing Glorfindel was not the problem. But Asfaloth was not only faster than the Marchwarden's grey, he also had much greater endurance. If this chase lasted long, Haldir would be forced to rest and there would be no talking his friend into joining him. Glorfindel would stubbornly continue on his own. Haldir could only hope they found Lindir soon.

Lindir on the other hand was just as stubborn as his Balrog Slayer. It had been easy enough to elude Haldir, for the Marchwarden was not familiar with the woods of Imladris and Lindir knew plenty places to hide. While Haldir was searching for his tracks, Lindir had taken to the trees, knowing his woody friends would help him and not give away his whereabouts to a stranger. He had doubled back and headed away from the market to the barracks, where he had taken what supplies he needed then calmly walked to the stables. The lads who cared for the horses had no reason to stop him, so he was able to provision his mare and leave unmolested. The guardians at the gate were his friends and although they probably thought it odd he was leaving Imladris without escort, did not believe it necessary to question his errand.

He knew that Glorfindel would come after him, but he hoped he had enough of a head start to avoid meeting his former lover. For Glorfindel would not rest until he learned the truth and that was something Lindir wished never to reveal. Sador would be his companion now for as long as he could keep her. The season's mildness ensured plenty of sweet grass for grazing so he would not have to worry about purchasing feed. For himself, he had his bow and could forage off the land. Crossing the Ford at this time of year would not be a problem, so he urged his mare onward. He wished to far from Imladris by sun's set so he would have time to find a sheltered and hidden spot to camp. The trees there would not be as friendly as those of home and he had Sador to consider. There would be time later to choose a destination, for now he would continue his trek west.

~~~~~~~~~~

Meneldîn hummed as she carried the tray down the stone steps. Although it was frightening to enter the part of Imladris where those of dangerous mind were housed, Meneldîn treasured this escape from the kitchen and the watchful eye of Eowidith. Not only would the guards be glad to see her, for her visit relieved their boredom, but she would be able to spend a few moments with her special friend, Cirith.

Cirith and Meneldîn had both been born in Imladris and their friendship started at an early age. It was only recently that their platonic relationship had changed into something different, when Meneldîn received her first kiss. She blushed as she thought of her friend and the way his eyes would light up when he saw her. So it was with some surprise that she approached the cell where the Half-elf waited for her tray to discover Cirith not on duty.

Neither of the three guardians, Maethor, Hebor and Gelir, seated around the small table were of the group that had been here yesterday, but she had seen them often on the practice fields. They were playing a dice game that had become popular around the barracks, a game which to her nana's chagrin, Cirith had taught her. It was a game not suited for ladies as it involved gambling. If their captain caught the sentries at it they would be reprimanded, but the likely-hood of that was slim, for rarely did he visit the cells.

Feeling disappointed, as she had been looking forward to speaking with her friend, she addressed the sentry closest to her. "Gelir, I have a tray for your prisoner, you had best deliver his food while it is warm."

The guardian smiled, rose from his chair and took the tray from her hand. "What a pleasure to receive a gift from such a beautiful lady," he said with a grin. Meneldîn blushed and returned his smile.

"I can wait or return later for the tray when the prisoner is finished," she replied, tilting her head in the direction of the Half-elf's cell.

"That is up to you, my sweet," Gelir returned, shrugging his shoulders. "You are welcome to join us in our game if you do not wish to return to the kitchen.." Before she could answer, the others at the table began gesturing at the chair the guardian had vacated, begging her to sit and play. With a merry laugh she seated herself and waited for the dice to come her way.

Once Gelir had delivered the prisoner's meal, he pulled another chair to the table and the game proceeded in earnest. They had played a few rounds, when Hebor placed three coins upon the table. "It is time we played for stakes," he stated. Meneldîn pouted, for she had no coin. "That knocks me out," she said, "I have no ante."

"I will wager against one of your sweet kisses," Hebor said, with a mirthful grin.

"Aye, brother and you will have Cirith to face if you win!" Maethor, the Elf sitting next to him replied. "Meneldîn is already wondering why it is your ugly face sitting here instead of his. Turning to Meneldîn, he addressed the question that had been on her mind. "With Lord Glorfindel's resignation, the weekly schedules were not completed. Captain Naldor put us back on last month's duties. Cirith is back at the gate this week. Hebor, put your money away, as long as Meneldîn is here we play no stakes. When she leaves, then I will give you the opportunity to enrich my pockets."

The game continued until Gelir, who was sitting closest to the cell, pushed back his chair and stretched. "It is time you returned, my dear. Give me but a moment and I shall retrieve your tray."

Removing a ring of keys from a peg on the wall, Gelir unlocked the cell door and went inside, closing the door behind him. Not a few moments later there was a crash, and the other two guards were on their feet. Before they could draw their weapons, Vand opened the door, his arm around Gelir's throat, the guard's own knife pressed against it.

"If you discard your weapons, he will come to no harm," Vand spoke in an even voice. The captured guard's face was white, his eyes wide open in shock. The two brothers still at the table looked at each other then slowly let their weapons fall to the floor, raising their hands to show they were empty. Vand nodded his head at Meneldîn, "You...wench...pick up the weapons and put them over in that corner." Meneldîn was shaking with fright, but she hurriedly did that which the peredhel asked. When she had finished, Vand stepped away from the door of the cell, gesturing to the other two guards and Meneldîn to step through it. When they had done so, he pulled the ring of keys from his belt and locked them in.

Once his comrades were imprisoned, Gelir's fright increased. The Half-elf was incredibly strong and his grip around his made it hard for him to breathe. As if in a dream he heard Vand's voice command him to strip.

"I cannot do so with your arm around my neck," Gelir replied.

Vand laughed cruelly. "You had best find a way and quickly."

His hands shaking, Gelir managed to do as the Half-elf requested, until he was leaning against Vand in nothing but his loincloth, his uniform in a pile on the floor. Vand dragged Gelir over to the door of the cell, opened it with the key and pushed the guard through, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. As quickly as he could he removed his clothes and donned Gelir's discarded uniform. Then taking his pick from the weapons in the corner, outfitted himself with bow, quiver and sword. His final action before he left was to pick up his old clothes and stuff them through the barred window of the cell door. "Do not wish to offend the lady," he uttered with a smirk. Creeping cautiously up the stairs, he had soon exited the Last Homely House and in the blink of an eye, vanished into the woods.

Eowidith was fuming. She had sent Meneldîn on a simple errand that should not have taken more than an hour. But it was past that time and the elf had not returned. She knew what ailed her servant, for that young guardian was always hanging around the kitchen making eyes at the maid, but young love or not, this was the last straw. Turning to an Elf that was cutting up vegetables, Eowidith directed her to go to the lower floor and bring Meneldîn back. "Inform her, Galwen, one more lapse like this one and she will spend next week mucking out the stables!"

Hardly any time had passed, when Eowidith suddenly found a hysterical she-elf tugging at her arm. "The prisoner has escaped and Meneldîn and the guards are locked in a cell," Galwen cried, "I cannot find the keys to let them out!"

"Elbereth, child! What do you come to me for, 'tis the guards you must notify, hurry now, before we all end up with our throats cut!" Eowidith pushed the elleth (1) out of the kitchen, mumbling under her breath about a spoiled dinner and a Balrog Slayer that should have stayed in the Halls of Mandos.

It had been long since the warning bell was sounded in Imladris, but with the escape of the Half-elf, Commander Naldor felt it was warranted. The deep notes of the bell as the clapper hammered against its cast surface broadcast a message of doom throughout the valley. All that heard it paused what they were doing and began to walk swiftly to the Last Homely House.

Garion and the five Elves of the search party he commanded also heard the peals of the bell. Without hesitation, Garion turned the group around and headed back to Imladris, the safety of the Last Homely House and his Lord overriding that of one elf. When they reached the gates, all were assigned to the frenzied search for the escaped prisoner.

Commander Naldor had personally informed Lord Elrond of the escape and his lord had directed Erestor to write messages that would be sent by to Lothlórien and the Greenwood, warning them of what had occurred. Commander Naldor also told them about Lindir. Both lords were beside themselves with worry for the community at large and for the minstrel. The Commander had assigned extra protection for Lord Elrond and the twins, even though both felt that the Half-elf would most likely be determined to leave Imladris.

Later, alone with his lord in Elrond's study, Erestor voiced his concern over Lindir's solitude on the road and expressed his relief that Glorfindel and Haldir had gone after him. Lord Elrond, at the mention of his former Seneschal, said not a word, but pressed his lips together in a thin line. Erestor noticed the reaction and decided it was time to intervene.

"You have been his friend for millennia," Erestor said calmly, "can you not forgive him now for his folly? Perhaps if he...."

But Lord Elrond did not let Erestor finish. In a voice that could barely control his irritation, he answered his advisor. "When and if Glorfindel returns with Lindir, I will discuss this, for now there are more pressing matters upon which I must post my attention!"

"As you wish my Lord," Erestor nodded his head, feeling not a little bit sorry for his long time friend. He sighed, wishing Glorfindel good speed and great luck in his search.

Lindir and Sador continued at a canter down the path leading to the Ford, when suddenly Sador's gait faltered and she began to limp, directly thereafter coming to a complete halt. The minstrel jumped from her back and looked for the cause of the injury. He examined each hoof and found a stone wedged painfully in the one on the right. He removed it and walked her around in a circle, checking to see how she distributed her weight.

"Elbereth," he exclaimed, realizing Sador's muscles had tied up causing extremely painful cramps. He sighed then began to give the trembling mare a massage. This he continued for a few moments until the stiffness and cramping began to subside. Patting her neck and speaking words of comfort, he walked her around slowly. There was no way he would be able to ride the mare, she should in all rights be returned to the stable for care. But Lindir could not go back. He would have to find a place where they could both rest and be hidden from the road. Leading the mare into the woods, he began to seek such a location.

He found such a place after a fair walk into the wood. Trees hid a tiny clearing with enough space for him and Sador to rest comfortably. He gave his mare water then brushed her coat and massaged her sore muscles again, covering her with a blanket when he was through. He would let Sador rest, then walk her again later.

Sitting down in front of a large oak, Lindir folded his arms on top of his knees and lay his chin upon them. Now that he had stopped his race to reach the Ford, his situation hit full force. Sobs wracked his slender frame as he cried his sorrow to Sador and the surrounding woods. Oh, how he would miss his golden warrior, his taste, his touch, his love. No, Lindir thought, he did not deserve that love anymore, nor had he ever. Glorfindel was as lost to him as if he had never known the Elf. He cried until he had no tears left, until he was exhausted and empty inside. Then curling up besides a root, he watched his mare, waiting for the time to pass before he would walk her again. Melancholy and depressed beyond measure, he did not realize when sleep overtook him. Only the old oak at whose feet he sheltered acknowledged that the unhappy being beside him was for the moment, at rest and at peace.

Anor had moved behind the trees when Glorfindel commanded Asfaloth to stop. Sador's tracks had vanished and the warrior wondered why. Dismounting, he searched the surrounding area, looking for clues of Lindir's whereabouts. Hooves pounding against the dirt told him that Haldir was not far behind, and it was just moments later that the Marchwarden halted his gray and hopped from its back.

"Any signs?" Haldir asked, walking over to where Glorfindel was examining the brush at the side of the road.

"It looks as if they passed through here, Haldir," Glorfindel replied, pointing to a faint impression in the soft dirt underneath a bush. "From the depth of these tracks, I think Sador has injured her back leg, possibly a stone bruise or a cramp. Stay here and wait for the search party, I am going in after Lindir. If I need help, I will signal. If I am not back by the time Anor sets, you will know I have found trouble."

Haldir nodded then squeezed Glorfindel's shoulder. "I hope you find him, meldir (2)."

Sky-blue eyes which moments before had mirrored despair now shone with hope as Glorfindel paused at Haldir's words. "I will not stop looking until I do," Glorfindel whispered, "for I cannot live without Lindir." Squeezing his friend's shoulder in return, he turned and entered the wood.

His soft leather boots made no sound as he moved, searching the ground for the U-shaped imprints of Sador's hooves. Lindir as an Elf and guardian left no trace of his passing, so although Glorfindel wished no harm to any being, he was thankful that Lindir's mare had given him a trail to follow. He could only hope he would come across his love before Anor set, for even Elven eyes would have difficulty seeing the faint marks in the darkness.

Time passed slowly for Glorfindel, his thoughts never straying from the elf that had caught his heart. Memories of Lindir and their time spent together flashed before his eyes and he wondered again what caused the minstrel to run, what it was that Lindir feared. Only yesterday, Lindir had assured him that nothing would ever come between them. Now, as Glorfindel walked the woods he was wracked with doubt. Even if he did find the minstrel, would Lindir still want him? Now that he had opened his heart, would it be broken once again? He wanted to cry his frustration and misery to the world, but he kept silent, not wanting to alert his love if Lindir were near.

He had begun to wonder if perhaps this trail was old, when he heard the soft nicker of a horse. Closing his eyes for a moment, he prayed to the Valar that he would find Lindir and his lover would not be injured. As quietly and stealthily as he could, he approached a dense patch of trees and foliage, just the place that an Elf who did not want to be found would choose for hiding.

Years of training made Lindir alert to any disturbance in the forest, but in his saddened state, he almost missed the faint sound that was alien to the natural surrounding. When Sador nickered softly, he crouched, his ears straining for the least noise or movement. Pulling his knife from his boot, he crept silently across the clearing towards the shelter of the trees on the other side.

A flash of gold from behind made him tense. He tried to run but before he could reach his stride, a heavy weight crashed onto his back and pushed him to the ground. Glorfindel held on tightly to his love as Lindir struggled to free himself, crying Lindir's name as tears welled in his eyes.

"Leave me be, Glorfindel, please. Let me go," Lindir whispered in between pants as he strove to free himself from the strong grasp of the Elda. But his effort was in vain; he could not dislodge the heavier and stronger elf.

"Why, Lindir, why? Glorfindel whispered, tears flowing freely now that he had his lover in his arms. "Why have you run from me? What have I done to deserve this?"

Lindir, hearing his lover's plea, felt a dam burst inside. His body heaved with his sobs as he fought to catch his breath. The fight had left him, he had no choice but to tell the only one he had ever loved why it was their love could not be.

"I-I never wished to hurt you, Glorfindel," Lindir said. "If y-you release me I will tell you what you wish to hear." The minstrel's voice hitched at these words and Glorfindel took pity on him, loosening his grip. Lindir turned onto his back so he was facing his lover. He looked into the warrior's wet eyes and his heart bled at seeing Glorfindel's tear-stained cheeks. His resolve weakened, his courage almost failed him, but he could not hold his secret inside any longer. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and began his story.

"I am not what I seem, Glorfindel. All these years, I have called Imladris home and partaken of its hospitality. But I have given nothing in return but falsehood and dishonesty. You, who at an early stage in my life, I called benefactor, I betrayed most of all."

Here Lindir paused, trying to find the courage to go on. Glorfindel had not said a word once he had released Lindir, only gazed at him with eyes filled with hurt. If Lindir could erase that look, he would give the world, but he knew his next words would cut deep, words that once spoken would leave no doubt in the warrior's mind that Lindir was worse than evil.

"At the time in my life that I needed someone the most, you found and comforted me. I was but an elfling, hurting, bleeding inside, yet you took me in and gave to me so much of yourself. The long days I spent in the healing halls found you always at my bedside, ever cheery and supportive, and I looked forward to your visits each and every day.

"Lord Elrond healed my body, but you healed my spirit, at least as much as any could. And you were kind not to ask what I had been through and I hid it deep inside, knowing that if I told, all I had gained would be lost.

"But others asked and guessed. I let them think that which was not true. After my parents' death, Glorfindel, I did lose my senses for a while. It was then you found me, and I believed at the time you were one of the Valar, come to take me to Aman. Your hair shone golden in the sun and your eyes were like an endless summer sky. I could have gazed forever into their depths. You were my savior; my hero and I worshipped you. But you, like everyone else, I played false."

Here Lindir paused. His eyes of ocean blue eyes gazed into those of the sky, the same that he remembered from that long ago day. Only this time, they brought no comfort, only pain. Pain because he knew this was the last time Glorfindel would look at him as a friend, much less a lover.

Other memories surfaced. The cold look on a bearded face of one that watched as an Elf fought desperately for his life. Lindir felt again the rock hard grip around his chest as he struggled to free himself, just as he had struggled with his lover only moments ago. He saw his father's expression of surprise as the red river of life poured from his body, heard his last whisper of love to his only son. These scenes flashed in never-ending play before his eyes. He saw his mother and the hurts the cruel men inflicted on her body. Hurts not understood at his tender age, but grasped years later. The men had made him watch as they defiled her body. He had seen the light fade from her face just as it had from that of his dear father.

If only he had struggled harder, had bit and stomped and scratched at his captor, done anything to remove the vile arms that held him. But he had only watched and cried to the Valar to show mercy. That was only the beginning of his crime. When the light had died from both of his parents and the Men had released him from their hold, he did not fall upon the knife and travel to the place where his loved ones beckoned. No, he was selfish and he pleaded, nay begged for his life. He deserted his parents, left them calling for him as they made their way to the place where the wronged reside. Left them childless... and for what? To beg succor from the very souls who ruthlessly maimed and murdered them. Betrayed the two elves that had cared for him more than life itself, who had died trying to protect him.

He had done as the Men bade. With blistered hands, he had turned the earth aside to dig the grave that would be his parents' final resting-place. He had endured the taunts, the tough of their filthy hands. Endured it all, for one more glimpse of the sun and the green growing of the trees and when the hole he had dug was deep enough to cover those dear ones that had given him life, he was the first to cast the dark earth over them.

It had been that moment when through his tears, he saw her, the ghostly outline of his mother as she opened her arms and beckoned Lindir to her. Tearfully she cried his name over and over. Oh how Lindir had longed to feel the warmth of her embrace, to have her hold him next to her heart and whisper sweet words of endearment. But his feet would not move, his wish for life was too strong. And so, he broke his mother's heart. With his own so burdened with sorrow he could barely stand, he watched as the ghostly image of his father gave him one last, longing glance, then placed his arm around his mother's shoulder and led her away, their sorrowful images fading into the trees. Lindir was never to see them again except in dreams. Coming out of his reverie, he looked at the beautiful face of his love.

"M-my parents were not murdered by Orcs as I led everyone to believe, Glorfindel," Lindir burst out suddenly, "I killed them!" And in a softer voice, "I killed them."

And with that he jumped to his feet and ran. Glorfindel followed, but the injury to his thigh would not allow him the speed he needed to catch the younger elf. Still he ran, on and on until he thought his heart would burst from his chest. Just as he felt he could run no more, the Valar granted him a gift. Lindir's boot caught on a root and the minstrel fell. Glorfindel pushed with all he had and in a maddening dive managed to catch Lindir by the ankle before Lindir re-gained his footing. With the strength of years of practice with the sword, the Elda pinned Lindir to the ground once more.

It was a moment before Glorfindel could draw breath but when he did, he spoke in a whisper. "No, Lindir, you are wrong. I saw your parents die and it was not you that killed them."

"You were there!" Lindir exclaimed in disbelief. "You were there and did naught to stop it?"

Glorfindel turned the minstrel so they were face to face, but still kept a tight hold on him. "Nay, meleth (3), I was not there when it happened. Did you truly believe that after finding one so young, lost, abandoned and abused, that I would make no effort to find the cause? Once you were settled comfortably and sedated, I led a party of elves on a search. It took us long, but we found the grave where your parents were buried. When we unearthed the bodies we saw the cause of their death. No elfling could have caused those hurts, Lindir, even if he had a mind to.

"We brought your parent's bodies back to Imladris, Lindir, where they were given an Elven burial. You were heavily sedated and too weak to attend. We thought the trauma of seeing your parents die had left you in a weakened state, not just your body, Lindir, but your mind. So we hid our findings from you when you awakened, waiting for a better time to tell you."

"But you never did, Glorfindel," Lindir said, once more expressing disbelief that such an event was kept from him. "Why?"

Glorfindel struggled with the question and for a long time did not answer. "There is more to the story, Lindir, but I swore an oath that I would not reveal it to you. I wish I could, but I cannot."

"Cannot, Glorfindel, or will not!" Lindir snapped his eyes ablaze. "I was worried that my lies would cause you hurt and now I find you have secrets that are just as dark. Let me up," he cried, trying to pry the warrior's hands from his arms.

Glorfindel moved to a sitting position and pulled Lindir up with him, however he still did not release him from his hold. "Everything I have done to you and for you has been for your own good. I love you Lindir, that is not a lie. What I withhold from you, I do only because it would hurt you to know the truth."

"Oh, and what gives you the power to determine that, Glorfindel!" Lindir almost spat in the other's face. "Hurt? You wish to know about hurt? I did watch my parent's die. You wondered once why I had such hatred of Men? So would you, meldir, if you were pulled from your father's arms by a filthy group of Edain--cutthroats, thieves. Twenty against one it was and my adar could not take them all. He died when the leader's sword pierced his heart, and I watched his blood flow till there was none left in his body. Yes, Glorfindel, I watched as the last words from his lips were for his wife and son. He died knowing what his wife would face next, and I watched for him as each one took my mother, watched while her lips that kissed me so tenderly were ravaged by those...animals. Watched and screamed as they killed her with their passion, watched until she no longer drew breath. What could you withhold from me, gwador, that could be worse than that!"

"Glorfindel's eyes went wide with shock as he listened to Lindir." You knew!" he whispered, "You knew all along! That which we swore to keep secret, which we thought would send you over the edge, you already knew!"

"Does that shock you, Glorfindel? That I watched and did nothing?" Lindir asked. "You talk of more, well I will tell you...more. You are right, Glorfindel, it was men that took the life from my parents' bodies, but it was I that killed their hearts! It was I who begged for life while they pleaded with me to leave Arda, to enter into Mandos' Halls. I broke their hearts into tiny pieces. They will be reborn and live in Valinor, but I... I can never face them again!"

Lindir tried once again to free himself from Glorfindel's grasp, not wishing to see the hatred that he knew would show in the Elda's eyes. But Glorfindel held him fast, and to his amazement, kissed his tears away.

"Lindir, my love... Lindir, you were so young. I ,myself, would have chosen as you did in that situation. Do you truly think your parents would have wished for you to die, parents as caring as yours? No love, in your shock your mind conjured a vision that you wished to see, that of your mother begging you to stay with her, because you did not want her to be gone. I have been to Mandos' Halls. None return from there the way you pictured, nor linger between this life and death the way you describe. I speak the truth, my love, from experience. Yes, you have lived with a lie all your life, Lindir, but it is your vision that is false, not you. You did nothing wrong, Lindir. You were wronged."

"Y-you do not hate me?" Lindir asked hesitantly, "knowing that which I did?"

"Lindir, look into my eyes and see the truth," Glorfindel commanded. And Lindir looked, and he saw.

Haldir heard them before they appeared, two muddied, bedraggled elves with tear-stained cheeks, leaning against each other, love shining in their eyes. Following behind was a sleepy and bored mare. Thanking the Valar that they were safe, Haldir rushed over and swept them both into his arms.

1\. elleth - female elf, elf maid  
2\. meldir - friend  
3\. meleth - love


	26. On the Road toward Reconciliation

Ithil's light guided the three elves back to Imladris. Lindir rested his head against Glorfindel's broad back, his arms clasped around his lover's waist. A heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time since he had come to the Elven haven, he felt at peace. Asfaloth's steady gait and the warmth of his lover's body soothed and lulled him and before long he drifted into reverie. Haldir noticed and smiled at Glorfindel, nodding his head in the minstrel's direction. "He sleeps," he whispered, and Glorfindel returned the smile knowingly.

As they neared the gates, they were met by four guardians, who welcomed them and told of the half-elf's escape. While Glorfindel pressed for more detail, Haldir absentmindedly patted his Grey, taking in the conversation but realizing, sadly, that his stay here was coming to an end. One more day and night and he would leave for Lothlórien. He would be glad to see his brothers and the Golden Woods, but would miss his friends in Imladris.

They rode onward toward the stables, the quiet of the woods replaced by the familiar sounds of civilization. But there was a difference. Haldir could sense a tension in the air. Perhaps his unease was due to the information imparted by the guardians, but Haldir noticed he was not the only one to feel it, for Glorfindel also was more aware and alert.

The closer they came to the Last Homely House, the more evidence there was of increased security. Glorfindel swept his eyes across the yard and silently nodded his approval while the marchwarden unobtrusively watched his friend. Haldir knew the seneschal took the week's events personally, for the problems with the half-elf had started under his command and Captain Naldor was his protégé. One had to know Glorfindel to see the signs of his distress; the fist that rested upon his thigh, fingers clenched so tightly that the knuckles showed white; the slight narrowing of his bottom lip, and, in the few moments when he let down his guard, the insecurity that showed in his eyes. Haldir ached seeing his friend in such condition, and he vowed to do anything within his power to help, but for now all he could offer was his silent support.

Another guardian rushed up to them and expressed relief at their return. Glorfindel spoke to him in a controlled voice, the tone of a commander to a subordinate, but Haldir could see the effort it took for him to do so. The loss of his position, the escape of the prisoner, the flight of his lover and his subsequent rescue, the estrangement from his Lord whom he had taken an oath to protect, all had taken its toll. Glorfindel's personal life had been suddenly thrust full force into the public eye for all to view. For an elf of such legend, this was juicy fodder for the gossips, and Haldir knew the seneschal could not help but hear the whispers behind his back. Though to others he seemed unscathed, Haldir could see through his façade and he knew Glorfindel was hurting.

A lad stood outside as they neared the stables, his eyes travelling first to the elves then to Sador. He tsked at the slight limp she exhibited then looked questioningly at Glorfindel.

"She caught a stone in her back hoof and her muscles seized," the warrior said, his expression telling the groom he should not have questioned the mare's care. "She has rested and we kept the pace to a walk on our way back. It was the best we could do under the circumstances."

The lad bowed his head in respect then led Sador into the shelter of the barn. A second lad took Haldir's Grey and still another waited to care for Asfaloth. Glorfindel normally tended to his stallion, but the groom correctly surmised that the seneschal's main concern tonight would be Lindir.

Glorfindel tried to wake Lindir, but he could not. So, with Haldir's help he eased the minstrel from Asfaloth's back and carried him into the Last Homely House. Haldir followed, opening the door when they reached Glorfindel's chambers. The Elda entered his bedroom and laid Lindir on the bed then removed the minstrel's muddied boots and placed them on the floor. Crossing to a carved cabinet in the sitting room, he took out a decanter and poured a dark red wine into two matching crystal goblets. One he kept for himself and the other he handed to Haldir.

Haldir took it from him and swirled the liquid around in the glass, gazing at the goblet as if mesmerized by the golden flower etched into its surface, the symbol of Glorfindel's House in Gondolin. He took a sip of the wine, savouring its heady bouquet, rich flavour and velvety texture on his tongue. The liquid flowed smoothly down his throat leaving a faint smoky taste and he smiled in appreciation. "Trust the ancient warrior to have the finest," were his thoughts.

His host took a seat in a chair by the hearth, stretched out his legs and propped them up on an ottoman. He motioned for Haldir to sit and the Marchwarden chose a similar chair directly opposite. Haldir smiled. "You need a bath, Glorfindel, you and Lindir both." His eyes trailed over the Glorfindel's muddied leggings and tunic then to the other room where Lindir lay curled upon the bed.

Glorfindel held his wineglass up to the light and squinted. "I wish to relax and rest for awhile. I have much to do this night, Haldir. After I bathe and eat, I shall apologize to both Elrond and Erestor."

Haldir nodded, knowing that would not be easy for the warrior. "Speaking of Erestor, Glorfindel, may I ask you a question?"

Glorfindel looked curiously at the Marchwarden. "Of course you may, Haldir."

Haldir leaned forward in his chair. "Have you ever known Erestor to take a lover?"

Glorfindel was silent for a moment. "If you are thinking of yourself, he will not be interested."

"It is not that, I was thinking of a conversation Erestor and I had earlier." Haldir replied. Then he caught the true meaning of the Elda's words and looked askance at his friend. "And why would he not be interested, if I had the intention of pursuing him, which of course, I do not."

Glorfindel glanced at Lindir then turned his eyes back to Haldir. "I do not know why I said what I did, except that Erestor is...Erestor. He lives for his work and is close to no one. Are you truly interested in Erestor? Glorfindel looked closer at Haldir. "You are. I can see it in your eyes. Haldir!"

"What if I am," Haldir replied, "Would that be so surprising? Erestor is...different. He intrigues me."

The Elda regarded his friend for a moment then narrowed his eyes. "Do not play with Erestor, Haldir. He is also my friend and I would not see him hurt.

"The rumours are not true, Glorfindel," Haldir said softly. "I am not even sure how they started, or when. I do not fly from bed to bed as you and others imply. In recent times, my liaisons have been few and far between. I am not chaste. I have needs and there are always those willing to meet them, those who wish for nothing more than a night of comfort or pleasure. But suddenly my wants have changed, I desire more."

"If you deny the substance of the rumours, I believe you," Glorfindel said, "but you must admit you have never been subtle when speaking of your conquests. Maybe you do not bed as many as others surmise, but you do flirt shamelessly. Even I have been on the end of your salacious behaviour.

"Whether they are true or no, they exist, and in all likely-hood, would cause Erestor to avoid you like the plague." Glorfindel gave Haldir a discerning look. "If my presumptions have been false, perhaps it is because your title pushes others to brag they have had you, when in truth they have not. It becomes a symbol of status for some to boast familiarity with a senior officer. I find that happens in the ranks, unfortunate as it is." He frowned. "And you do not help yourself with that mask of arrogance you wear to those who do not know you. It is as if you issue a challenge, crack me open and see the prize that lies inside.

"Erestor, perhaps, appeals to you in the same way. He is a more than capable advisor and can hold his own with the best Middle-earth has to offer. But when it comes to matters of the heart, I liken him more unto Lindir. He will fall and fall hard for the elf who breaches his barrier, and again I say, he is not one I would care to see hurt. Make sure of your feelings before you think of approaching him. He is not a toy to be played with and then cast aside."

Haldir leaned back then took another sip of wine. "I will think on what you have said, Glorfindel. Seeing you with Lindir has reminded me of what I had so long ago and now miss. I suppose, I have always taken Erestor for granted, thinking of him almost as an extension of Lord Elrond, his shadow, dark and impenetrable. The other day, I glimpsed another elf. It took me by surprise and I have not been able to erase the incident from my mind." He raised the goblet once again and finished the last of his wine, setting the empty wineglass on a nearby table. Then he sighed. "It is all immaterial, Glorfindel, as I am near the end of my visit. Who knows when next I shall return to these Halls."

Glorfindel nodded. "As always, I will be sorry to see you leave. You are a good friend, Haldir. Do not forget what I asked of you the other night, for I dearly meant what I said." He drained the last of his wine and set down his goblet. Then he stretched and stood. "If you do not mind, I shall bathe and then order our dinner. After we eat, I will seek out Lord Elrond." He looked at Haldir disarmingly. "Would you mind once again staying with Lindir? I would not ask, but by the Valar, I do not wish to lose him again!"

"I do not think you need worry," Haldir replied. "But if it makes you comfortable, I will stay. Lindir is my friend and I enjoy his company, but do not tarry long. It is you he longs to spend his time with, not I." Haldir smiled.

Glorfindel gave Haldir a smile in return then went to take his bath.

Once Glorfindel had left the room, Haldir poured more wine from the decanter into his wineglass. He sat down again, sipping the wine slowly, looking around Glorfindel's chambers. The difference between the Elda's room and Lindir's was like night and day. The room was spacious and grand, with many pieces of finely crafted furniture, all reflecting the Elda's status as a lord. In the next chamber, he could see a glimpse of Glorfindel's bed. It was made from a rich, dark, finely-grained wood, its entire surface carved with the sun-shaped flower of his House, the Celandine. The same motif was embroidered in threads of gold on the heavy velvet drapes at the windows and on the matching coverlet upon the bed where Lindir lay.

In the room where he now sat, tapestries hung artfully on the walls. One depicted the Hidden City of Gondolin in all of its glory, its walls a brilliant white beneath a cerulean sky. Haldir's eyes moved to the next, of Cuiviénen, that place on the sea of Helcar where the elves first awakened under the stars. The weaver had captured the awe of the moment, for the faces of the elves all looked to the heavens. The soft glow of the stars, sewn in silvered thread, was mirrored on the water and Haldir wondered at that event which had been the Elves' beginning. A third tapestry, which Glorfindel had commissioned, was of the ancient warrior's family home in Valinor, where hopefully, one day he would return to rest. Only Glorfindel and a few other elves residing now on Middle-earth had experienced firsthand the beauty and peace the Undying Lands promised to the Firstborn, shores that Men would never visit.

There was one more tapestry that Haldir knew Glorfindel held dear, that of the Last Homely House, Glorfindel's current residence. It was pictured nestled in cliffs from which tumbled cascades of silvery-white water, the pools at their base bathed in rainbow-hued mist. The crafter had managed to re-create perfectly the detailed architecture for which the structure was renowned, the kiss of nature reflected in its every beam, wall and graceful arch. Haldir could make out the room in which he stayed as a guest of Lord Elrond, and recognized the tree that stood outside his window. Yes, he would miss this, he thought. But in spite of all that Imladris had to offer, Haldir knew his heart belonged in the Golden Woods of Lothlórien.

He sighed, and continued to look around the chamber. Heavy drapes, duplicates of the ones in Glorfindel's bedroom framed the windows, and the wooden cabinet from which Glorfindel had removed the decanter stood like a sentinel against the wall to the left of the hearth, as if guarding entrance to the room through the window's arched openings. In addition to the chair in which he sat, and the one vacated by Glorfindel, the room contained two long sofas. Both were carved in the same wood as the rest of the furniture and upholstered in a similar fabric as that of the drapes. Velvet and silk pillows of various shades of blue and green and gold, decorated with golden fringe, lay upon the plush cushioning, making a cosy nest for any who chose to rest there.

Bookshelves on the opposite wall contained a wide variety of leather bound tomes and other odd treasures that Glorfindel had accumulated in his time at Imladris. Haldir rose from his seat and picked up an interesting object from one of the shelves. It stood out, not because of its colour, which was a combination of deep red and brilliant gold, but because of its purpose and the fact that it looked well-used.

Haldir felt a movement, and a hand took the object from him and set it back onto the shelf. "You have discovered my not so secret, secret." Glorfindel smiled. "I indulge myself occasionally," he said as he placed the ash tray back upon the shelf.

Haldir laughed then picked up a small lidless box lined in silk which contained a round stone. It was cut in cabochon shape, domed on the top, flat on the bottom, its colour a lustrous, pearly, bluish-white. When the box was tilted, a shiny band of light moved across the stone, giving the appearance of the pupil in the eye of a great cat. "What is it?" Haldir asked, never having seen such before.

"It is a moonstone, said to give its owner luck in life and love." Glorfindel replied. "It was given to me a long time ago. There is an old saying, that if you give such a stone to the one you love, Ithil will bless your union, and that if you give one to a prospective lover, he or she will become your life's mate."

"So, this was gifted to you by a former lover?" Haldir asked, frowning slightly.

"No, not a lover," Glorfindel smiled at Haldir, "a very old and dear friend. You know him well, his name is Erestor."

"Why would Lord Erestor give you a lover's gift?" Haldir asked out of curiosity.

"I wondered the same when I opened it. But he told me he had a vision. That I would find my soul mate, and that it would be an elf from Imladris, a child of Ithil. At the time, I was amazed at his gift of foresight. I learned later that he had seen the love I had for Lindir and hoped one day I would act upon it. He intended for me to give it to the minstrel."

"Again, I am confused," Haldir looked at Glorfindel. "Was it not Erestor who warned Lord Elrond that you and Lindir had become lovers?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, he did, but he felt it was his duty to his lord, that does not mean he did so gladly. Erestor is a romantic, and Lindir and I are his close friends. He always hoped the two of us would find a way to come together that would not harm Lindir's peace of mind. He never told me this until recently, but I know Erestor well enough to know how he thinks."

Haldir shook his head. "You are right. I do not know Erestor at all."

"What do you wish to know of Erestor?" A new voice entered the conversation, for Lindir had awakened and come to stand behind Glorfindel, resting his head on the Elda's shoulder.

"Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes," Haldir replied, deftly changing the subject. "I was under the impression, Lindir, you would sleep all night."

Lindir began to answer, but Glorfindel interrupted. "If we wish to eat, I need to visit the kitchen. You are welcome to use my bathing chamber, Lindir, and to borrow one of my robes. Our food should arrive soon after you finish."

Lindir raised his eyebrows and whispered to Glorfindel. "Are you insinuating that I need a bath?"

Glorfindel laughed. "Yes, for you are covered with mud from almost head to toe and I do not wish the linens of my bed to be the recipient of the earth of the forest. For that is where I plan for you to be tonight, Lindir, in bed with me!"

Lindir's cheeks turned pink and he lowered his eyes. Haldir was a friend, but that did not mean he was comfortable talking about such personal matters in front of him. The elf of Lindir's thoughts, laughed along with Glorfindel, winking at the Elda over Lindir's head.

Still laughing, Glorfindel went into his bedchamber and returned, carrying a pale coloured robe, which he handed to Lindir. "To the bath chamber, my love, I am off to the kitchen to see about our repast. I only hope that dragon of a cook is not the elf I must speak with to make the arrangements." He winked at Haldir then left.

-Lord Elrond's Study - the Last Homely House, Imladris

Lord Erestor sat in a chair across from the desk of Lord Elrond, his hands in front of him, his fingertips pressed together. Lord Elrond leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desktop, waiting for Erestor to finish speaking.

"I do not believe the peredhel stayed in Imladris, Elrond. Unfortunately, too much time elapsed between his escape and the notification of the guards. He should have been able to evade our forces without much problem. Commander Naldor did his best under the circumstances."

Lord Elrond frowned. "It was Glorfindel's duty schedule the guards were following. Can we honestly blame Naldor for the guardian's incompetence?"

"Nay, my lord, the guardians at the cell where the prisoner was held were not ones Glorfindel would have chosen if the cell had been occupied, and Commander Naldor, being in a bind, had to use the roster from the previous period. If blame is to be placed, it must fall on them both. But you must admit neither can be truly faulted. I think it is more a case of unfortunate circumstance. The prison guards have been reprimanded and held accountable for their negligence. But I say again, Glorfindel would not have assigned those with so little experience to guard a prisoner. During their original duty, the cells were empty of miscreants.

"That still leaves me in a quandary, Erestor. Commander Naldor wishes to step down and I am loath to leave the command of our forces to the elf under him. He is an excellent guardian, but he lacks the leadership experience such a position requires. Either I bring in an elf from outside Imladris, or do as Naldor requests and approach Glorfindel about returning."

"The guardians will not take well to an outsider, Elrond," Erestor said, "and who would you find that knows Imladris as well as Glorfindel. He has served as your seneschal from the beginning. He has the loyalty and trust of the troops, they would die for him."

"I do not deny Glorfindel's expertise, or the loyalty of his men, it is Glorfindel's loyalty to me that is in question. Where once I would have trusted him with my life, his actions of late have changed my mind. First, the men who attacked us should never have been allowed to cross our border. Second, he threatened me with bodily harm when I forbade him to see Lindir. Never has he done such before and meant it. And third, he broke a sworn oath. That is the worst offence of all."

Erestor waited for his lord to finish speaking then rose to Glorfindel's defence. "It is true, my lord, that we have had unusual activity as far as trouble with bandits and men. Mayhap, the peace of the past was due to Glorfindel's preparedness. The half-elf was crafty and the ambush was well-prepared. The men under him were trained in Elven warfare, and he knew the schedule of our guards. It was a deliberately planned attack, and I am not sure anyone could have prevented it.

"As to Lindir, Glorfindel lost his heart to the elf long ago. The signs were there for all of us to see, we just ignored them, as did Glorfindel. Lindir was too shy to reveal his feelings and probably would have kept them hidden. Haldir was the catalyst and your sons, unwittingly, with their plans for this gift-giving. I do not understand why Glorfindel broke his promise, but he is very territorial, and he answered your threat with one of his own when you gave him an ultimatum on Lindir. In addition, you questioned his performance as an officer. Glorfindel takes pride in his leadership, and was already upset over Tebring and the prisoner. You caught him at a very emotional moment."

Elrond nodded his head slowly. "You and Glorfindel have been friends, Erestor, for as long as I have known him. I would expect you to stand behind him, but it is the security of Imladris I must consider. Glorfindel today, is not the same Glorfindel I remember of old. He has changed, Erestor. Perhaps, he has grown bored over the centuries. I am not sure he is the elf to keep Imladris safe." Elrond stood then walked toward the window, gazing at the night sky and the grounds of the Last Homely House. "I am upset with Glorfindel, Erestor, but I do not let that cloud my judgment. I worry for him; he is my friend as well."

"If he is your friend, as you say, Elrond then talk with him." Erestor pleaded with his lord. "Tell him of your concerns, and give him a chance to state his side. He may have reasons we never considered that coloured his actions. He and Lindir have returned safely, along with Haldir. I would approach him tonight."

Elrond sighed and turned back toward Erestor. "As always, I respect your counsel. I will consider what you have said. Perhaps, I will speak with Glorfindel after dinner. It is time now for us to leave for the dining hall." Elrond gestured for Erestor to lead the way. "After you, my friend," he said, and the two left the office on their way to dinner.

-Glorfindel's Chambers, the Last Homely House, Imladris

Lindir had bathed and dressed and a servant from the kitchen had delivered their food, more than enough for all three elves. They had eaten and were enjoying a glass of light wine after dinner. Haldir sat in the chair before the hearth and Lindir sat across from him. Glorfindel paced the chamber, trying to decide what he would say to Lord Elrond.

"You will wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing. Sit and relax, you can think just as well if you are comfortable." Glorfindel's pacing was wearing on Haldir's nerves. "Ask him to take you back, beg if you have to. You will not be content until you do."

"I worry, Haldir. A change is in the air, I feel it in my bones. It will be long in coming, but the darkness is gathering. Fell beasts will walk this world once more, and I am not sure I have the strength to fight against them. In addition, I have lost Elrond's trust, and can see no way to gain it back in the near future. I returned to Middle-earth to serve a purpose the behest of the Valar. But I am tired, I do not know if I can go through another age of war and battle. I long for peace, Haldir. Lately, I dream of the white gulls and the sea."

"I do not think it is the sea that calls you, mellonen (1)," Haldir replied. "I have felt the change, and also my lord and lady. Galadriel has sought the mirror more and more of late. We have word that Thranduil and Círdan are ill at ease, as I am sure, is Lord Elrond. There are whispers in the wind, and they forebode evil. You are not alone in your dark thoughts or your doubt. You are needed here, Glorfindel. There is no other that can protect Lord Elrond and his family as well as you. As you say, it is your destiny. Do not stray from the path, I have faith you will find guidance."

"As always, Haldir, you ease my mind, and now I also have Lindir on my side." Glorfindel smiled at his lover then kissed Lindir's cheek. He straightened and stood to his full height, a look of determination on his face. "It is time. Lord Elrond should have retired from dinner and is, I pray, in his study sharing a glass of wine with Erestor. I have nothing to lose by speaking to him, and I owe them both an apology. I will return." And with that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

A few moments later, Glorfindel stood in front of another door, the one that led to his lord's study. He raised his hand and knocked upon its panelled surface.

"Enter," Lord Elrond commanded and Glorfindel did so. As he had thought, his lord and Erestor were standing near the window, a glass of wine in hand. They both turned at his entrance.

"Lord Glorfindel," Elrond's formal manner towards his former commander did nothing to build Glorfindel's confidence.

Glorfindel swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat then nodded to his lord, "Lord Elrond, Lord Erestor? May I have a word with you both?"

"Have a seat, Glorfindel. Whatever you have to tell us, we are willing to listen."

Glorfindel declined the offer of a chair. "I prefer to stand, my lord, if you do not mind. What I have to say will be brief. I am not proud of my actions this past week. I have lashed out at those I care for and said words that I regret. I apologize to you both and hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my foolishness."

Erestor walked closer to his old friend. "I accept your apology, Glorfindel. I understand this week has been trying, and I would never let a few words said in anger destroy the friendship we have held for so long." Erestor looked meaningfully at Lord Elrond.

"Thank you, Erestor, for your support. I value your friendship more than you know." Glorfindel smiled warmly at Erestor, thanking his old friend for his kindness and understanding. He turned to Lord Elrond and awaited his response.

Elrond was slow to speak and when he did, his manner was very formal. "I will accept your apology Lord Glorfindel, for I believe you are sincere in your words. But I was distressed by your behaviour. I hesitated to speak with you before, as I feared your temper, this last week it has been uncontrollable. Now that your demeanour is calmer, I hope you will provide answers to my many questions. If you will take a seat, we have much to discuss."

"Yes, my lord." Glorfindel nodded and seated himself on a small bench set against the wall. He crossed his hands and placed them in his lap. His youthful countenance and the guileless look his in wide, blue eyes made him appear docile and contrite. One who did not know him would think him incapable of the violent change in temperament that could turn such an innocent-looking elf into an aggressive battle-hardened warrior of almost insurmountable force and might. For Glorfindel was at home not only on the battlefield, but also in the heat of the council chamber. His power with words was second only to Lord Erestor and Lord Elrond. Those who faced him in his fury would never forget the experience, and Lord Elrond had a long, long memory. "I would speak with you on the problem of Imladris' security, but first you need explain your decisions regarding Lindir. You broke an oath sworn long ago, and I fail to see the justification for your actions. It is enough that you placed the elf in jeopardy, but you threatened to cut my throat when I tried to save Lindir from your questionable behaviour."

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed and Erestor held his breath. He feared the words his friend would say next.

"My questionable behaviour?" Glorfindel's voice began to increase in volume. I swore an oath not to reveal to Lindir the cause of his parent's death. That was all. I took your advice when Lindir neared his majority not to act on my feelings toward him, but that was another matter, that had nothing to do with my oath. When Lindir admitted his feeling toward me, I almost rejected him. But Varda intervened and blessed our union. Do you question the will of a Vala!"

Erestor's heart sank. He had hoped Glorfindel could sit through this conversation with his lord without losing his temper, but it looked as if he hoped in vain. Glorfindel was, unfortunately, just beginning.

Glorfindel rose from the bench and stepped toward Lord Elrond. "All these years, we have treaded softly around Lindir, thinking the knowledge we hid from him would make him succumb to grief and fade or wish to leave Middle- earth, wish to sail west. But, I say this to you, Elrond, we grossly misjudged Lindir. His memory suffered from the terrible ordeal, but not at the level we thought, he..."

"What Glorfindel is trying to tell you, my lord, is that I saw my father murdered and my mother raped repeatedly, until she too left for the Halls of Mandos. My parents were not killed by orcs, like I let everyone believe, but by the hands of men. And I watched them die and I was forced to dig their graves afterward. I did lose my memory, but it was of the time after their death, the time when I struggled to survive. The secret that you hid from me for such a long time, thinking to protect me, was one I already knew."

Lords Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel spun around at these words. Lindir stood in the doorway, his hands at his side, his fingers curled into fists, and he did not look happy!

1\. mellonen - my friend


	27. Closure

There was not much to see, a small mound upon which grew the delicate niphredil and a cairn of water polished, smooth stones. No tablet scribed with names marked the passing of the two elves that were once the center of young Lindir's life, but that did not matter. It pleased him to know that what remained of their bodies rested in serenity and peace, in a place that they had once visited and loved. Here on Middle-earth, all Lindir had were the lingering memories of his parents - precious, oh so precious - yet also bittersweet.

Lindir knelt and ran his hands over the surface of the pile of worn rocks. The stone was wet with the morning's dew as if nature herself cried the tears that his eyes could no longer shed. In the past, he had filled buckets, rivers, lakes. It was enough. Free of the guilt and remorse that had haunted him since their deaths; he looked upon this earthy grave with a serene countenance, knowing that he and his parents would one day meet again in the lands where no one ever died.

A hand touched his shoulder.

"Lord Elrond gave me this." Glorfindel knelt beside Lindir. In his hand was a velvet purse, tied with a silk ribbon. Lindir took it from him and opened the bag. Therein lay two brooches and a gold ring. The top of the ring was flat and engraved with a seal. The brooches were identical, round in shape and cast of mithril with a golden lyre inlaid in the centre of each on a field of blue enamel.

"The ring was my mother's," Lindir said. The seal is Gildor's. And these they wore always, he rubbed his finger across the smooth surface of one of the pins, the badge of a minstrel.

"You should wear one, Lindir." Glorfindel replied. "You have their gift."

Lindir looked at his lover. "Ever I shunned the Harper's guild for I cared not to stay in the house of Master Findal." Lindir smiled. "He is hard to please yet my music is where it is today due to his teaching. Mayhap, I will change my mind but only if he continues our agreement; I would not wish to quit the patrol."

"I will speak with Master Findal personally, if that is your wish, Lindir." Glorfindel returned the smile. "He would not refuse Elrond's second-in-command."

Lindir flung his arms around Glorfindel's neck. "Second-in-Command! Oh, You have made your peace with Lord Elrond!"

Glorfindel laughed, "'It was you who made it for me. There was naught Elrond could do but apologize for the misunderstanding."

"As simple as that, eh?" Lindir raised his brow in imitation of the lord of Imladris.

"Nay, it was not that easy," Glorfindel replied, "but it is done. He touched Lindir's cheek with his fingers. "Lindir, it is not only Lord Elrond of whom I request forgiveness. It was never my intention to hurt you; I could not break my oath..."

"Shush," Lindir put a finger to Glorfindel's lips. "It is the past. I shoulder as much of the blame and responsibility, so we are even. It is the future that concerns me now, our future."

The kiss was tender and poignant, a kiss of forgiveness and promise. It was followed by another just as memorable. Lindir closed his eyes with the sweetness of it and Glorfindel pressed his advantage. The breeze was cool on their skin and the song birds trilled a lovely melody. It was a perfect moment broken by the sound of someone clearing his throat.

"Do not tell me, let me guess," Glorfindel sighed. "Haldir!"

"I can come back later," Haldir replied.

"No," Lindir answered to Glorfindel's dismay. "Many nights and days I will have with Glorfindel but you are leaving on the morrow and I will miss you dreadfully."

"I will not," Glorfindel replied. "Take your leave, Haldir."

"Glorfindel!" Lindir admonished his lover, striking him playfully on the chest. "That is no way to treat a friend."

"At the moment, he is not a friend but a rival," Glorfindel mumbled.

Haldir chuckled. "Nay, Glorfindel, you have beaten me at my own game. Lindir belongs to you and you alone." His mien sobered and he turned to Lindir. "It was not my intention to interrupt; I came to pay my respects."

Glorfindel pulled Lindir to his feet, nodding his head to Haldir, assuring his friend that his previous remark had been said in jest. The three guardians stood in comfortable silence looking down at the mound of piled stones. The marchwarden was the first to break the spell.

"There is nothing I can say that will erase your pain, Lindir, would that I had the means to do so."

"Or had I," Lindir said with a sad smile, "Your words bring comfort, Haldir, as does your presence."

"Of that I am glad," Haldir replied. "As warriors, we see more than our share of death. Often it is traumatic and causes some to become cynical, question the ways of Illúvatar." Haldir paused. "He is all wise, Lindir, and only he knows the final chapters in the book. It is our duty to live the life he gives us with our eyes wide open, to treasure the beauty and magnificence of his creation. There is as much purpose in death as there is in life although our people experience it less than others.

"For the sorrow you have suffered from your parents' passing, great will be the joy of your reunion in Aman. Were there not pain and grief, neither would there be bliss. From destruction and decay comes forth new beginnings and appreciation for the old. Let your memories sustain you now. They are a gift more precious than the finest gem or vein of mithril. Your parents will be proud of the elf you have become. They will greet you with open arms as my parents' will do the same for my brothers and I - when we sail, Lindir - when we leave these shores."

"Haldir speaks the truth," Glorfindel replied, placing his arm lightly around Lindir's waist, "For I have experienced death first hand. Enjoy what is given here and now and know there is even better yet to come."

A plaintive wail drew the attention of the three elves to one of the cliffs above the falls. There, back-lighted by the rising sun stood a lone piper who played a sad lament in honour of Lindir's parents. To the continuous drone of the pipes and the skirl of the notes from the chanter, voices joined in as the musicians of the Harper's guild also paid tribute. Lindir looked to both Glorfindel and Haldir. "'Tis Master Findal, there are none as skilled upon the pipes as he."

"That is not the first he has played that piece, Lindir, he wrote it the day we laid your parents' bodies to rest." So spoke Lord Elrond as he walked into the clearing, Lord Erestor at his side, followed by most of the elves that resided in the Last Homely House. All stood in front of the cairn and lifted their voices in song; Lindir's rising sweetly above the rest. When the last note of the pipe had died, Lindir laid his head upon Glorfindel's shoulder. Glorfindel hugged him close. Haldir was right. From death came new beginnings and for both a Balrog Slayer, reborn, and two minstrels' lonely child, a page in the book of life had turned. Tomorrow was the dawn of a glorious new day.


	28. The Gift Giving

The dining hall that night was packed with elves, for Eowidith had planned a magnificent feast for the night of the giving of gifts, the new tradition which her Lord's young sons had requested and Lord Elrond had decreed. Though a secret it was supposed to have been, Eowidith had the news spread far and wide not long after she learned of her Lord's intention. And although to her help, she grumbled and complained of the extra work the feast entailed, secretly, she was pleased at the chance to show off her talent at creating such exquisite fare.

As to the rest of the audience, most elves having a curious nature, there were already bets as to whom would give what to whom and for what reason. So there all sat with bated breath waiting for the meal to end and for Lord Elrond to announce that the gift-giving commence.

At Lord Elrond's table, not all of the revered personages were as assured of themselves as they appeared. Lindir, dressed in a velvet robe of dusky mauve that highlighted the rose in his lovely cheeks and deepened the blue of his eye, was suddenly in doubt of the present he had chosen for Glorfindel. So many had their eye turned his way. It would not be the same as playing the harp in the Hall of Fire. For there, all attention was on the notes that sprang from his instrument, not on he who played the tune. And tonight, he must stand and show to all, the gift he had selected for Glorfindel.

The object of his affection, unaware of Lindir's inner turmoil, was happily eating a rich crème custard while he listened to Haldir, Lothlórien's Marchwarden.

"You must understand," Haldir was saying, "that Rumil had no idea of the value Lady Galadriel placed on the pitcher. So, he did not notice or in any way fathom Orophin's horrified expression when my lady came to stand at the edge of the hole they had dug." Haldir chuckled, "The season they both spent polishing that pitcher taught both not to take without asking, at least where my lady is concerned."

Lords Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor all laughed at the plight of Haldir's two siblings.

"I daresay my sons have caused their share of mischief, Haldir." Lord Elrond said with a smile.

"Like Father like sons, they say," Glorfindel replied with a wink. "I remember a few ... "

"You can dispense with your memories, Lord Glorfindel," Elrond replied, frowning in mock anger at his seneschal. "I will not have the conversation at this table travel those roads again."

Talk soon turned to mundane matters and as Lord Glorfindel finished the last of his dessert, Lord Elrond signaled for the dishes to be cleared. Footmen waiting at each table hurried to oblige. Lindir, who had toyed with his custard and not taken a bite, grew more nervous as the course was cleared away and the dessert wine poured. His hands trembled as he took his first sip of the sweet wine, so much so that Glorfindel, who had finally noticed Lindir's distress, took the glass from his hand and set it back onto the table. Patting Lindir's knee, Glorfindel placed a chaste kiss on Lindir's cheek then whispered softly into his ear.

"Do not worry, my love. Whomever you gift tonight will be well pleased. After all, it is the thought that counts, not the content of your present."

Lindir smiled tremulously and then suddenly laughed off his fear. Glorfindel was right. Glorfindel would like his gift if only because it was Lindir who presented it. Glorfindel would appreciate his words even if he spoke in foreign tongue, and it was Glorfindel he wanted to please, not any other elf. Now that his heart was at ease, the joy that Lindir should have had for the occasion blossomed like a flower and shone radiant upon his face.

Conversation stilled when Imladris' lord pushed back his chair and stood, clearing his throat for attention.

"It appears, "Lord Elrond began, "that a private matter has run the round of the grapevine of Imladris, for I have not seen this many at feast for quite some time."

Laughter dutifully greeted his statement and he waited politely for it to end.

"At the behest of my sons, Masters Elladan and Elrohir, tonight we appreciate those dear to our hearts by giving a small token of our affection. Seven days past, Marchwarden Haldir told a story of a family from Anórien. Each year this family gathered at the table and exchanged gifts. It was a moving story and a wonderful tradition, which we start here now in Imladris."

Lord Elrond signaled to a servant who brought forth a large tray upon which lay an assortment of gifts of various size and shape, each wrapped or decorated so that none could tell what lay inside its container. The servant placed the tray in the centre of the table, bowed to Lord Elrond and withdrew to a spot from which he would be unobtrusive yet, still have a clear view of the proceedings.

"Haldir," Lord Elrond turned to the Marchwarden. "You are our guest and as it was you who told us of Althos of Anórien and his wife and sons, I give you the honour of continuing the ritual this fine man started."

The Marchwarden's hair was freshly washed and braided in an elaborate style. It shimmered with silver highlights from the candles' light as he rose from the table and bowed low to Lord Elrond.

"You are a gracious host, Lord Elrond," Haldir said with a smile. "Ever do I look forward to my visits here in Imladris for the beauty of your valley remains untarnished and your peoples kind-hearted and generous. It is with great sadness I leave on the 'morrow, as I know not when I will once again grace these halls and I am sore to leave those I consider fond friends.

"It is one of those friends here at our table whose name I selected." Haldir removed a pretty package from the tray which was wrapped in a moss green fabric tied with a bowed ribbon of dark silk.

"Lord Erestor," Haldir turned to face Lord Elrond's Chief Advisor. "You are an elf of great worth to Imladris. Tirelessly working in the background to keep your lord's realm running smoothly, each cog turned and oiled to perfection. You accomplish your tasks with grace and poise, never a feather ruffled nor a word spoken in huff or hurry or misplaced anger.

"As councilor, you are a formidable opponent and such battles have I seen you fight and champion with wily speech or naught but pen and words on paper. Lord Elrond is the brick and stone and rock hard foundation of this haven of refuge, Imladris, but you are the mortar that holds the bricks and stones in place. Admirable, my friend ... you are truly a most admirable elf."

Haldir walked around the table and handed the gift to Erestor, but as the advisor reached to take it, Haldir pulled it back and whispered. "What thoughts hide you behind those dark, deep eyes, Erestor? What emotions lie in wait for one who dares to breech your walls? Of Alabaster and stone you are carved, like the marble statues in Celebrian's garden, placed on pedestals for all to admire but as cold as ice to the touch."

Erestor drew back his hand as if scorched, his eyes wide; a faint blush slowly suffusing his cheeks.

"Haldir laughed and once more handed his gift to Erestor. "For you my Lord, for I greatly appreciate your talents."

Those at the table who had heard Haldir's whispered words looked on with much interest as Erestor fumbled with the ribboned tie that bound his gift. Uttering a soft curse, Erestor finally removed the last of the wrapping to disclose a wooden box with a hinged lid. On the top of the box was carved in relief, a feather, nothing more. It was simple and elegant, a master's work.

Erestor slowly raised the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of red satin, lay a cast metal ink stand and a glass ink bottle. The stand was of silver with an artful design of carved flowers and leaves. A dark patina stained the carved crevices highlighting the smooth surface of the lustrous metal. There was a holder for a quill on the left of the stand and a well for the ink bottle on the right.

The stand was lovely, but it was the ink bottle that drew a gasp from Erestor as he carefully picked it up and held it to the light. The bottle was squat and heavy with six sloped sides rising to a conical neck with a rounded lip. A ground glass stopper topped with a round ball kept it sealed tight. The glass of the bottle and top was a rich cobalt blue. Molded perfectly to the base and running halfway up the sides was a silver casing of cut and chased design. The casing on one side extended higher than the others for its design contained a flower in whose center was set a round stone. Caught in the light from the candelabra, the moonstone shone with a soft, pearly luster.

"It is a lovely gift, Haldir." Erestor said, his gaze lingering on the moonstone for some moments before he raised his eyes to the Marchwarden. "I shall treasure it as I do your friendship."

Haldir smiled at Erestor. "I am glad it pleases you, my friend. Perhaps, you will think of me from time to time as you sit at your lonely desk."

"Oh, I shall, Haldir, I shall." Erestor replied, bowing his head in thanks to the one who had given such a thoughtful gift, hiding the slight blush which again had come to his cheeks.

The elves in the dining room burst into applause as pleased as Erestor by the fine gift that Haldir had chosen. Lord Erestor placed the ink bottle back into the box and as one, all eyes turned to Lord Elrond to see who he would call upon next.

"Lord Glorfindel," Elrond gestured to his second-in-command. "Tell us whose name you drew from the bowl."

"As it pleases you, my lord," Glorfindel replied, rising from the table and selecting a large, flat package from the tray.

Glorfindel cleared his throat with a cough and raised his hand for quiet. For no sooner had he risen from his chair than the room had erupted with loud applause and hurrahs. Glorfindel was beloved by all of Imladris, a hero of the first and second age, an elf re-born; a golden lord from a golden era. He was glorious and valiant, but above all, he was theirs, beholden only to Imaldris and Imladris' lord. All that was good and noble and just was embodied in this one they called their own and the news that he had resigned his command had rocked the small community to the core. Happy to see him in his rightful place again, whole and hale and of good cheer, they could not help but show their admiration and it was a long moment Glorfindel stood before he had a chance to speak.

"Lord Elrond, friends, honoured guests," Glorfindel raised his wineglass in salute, "long have I lived on Middle-earth. Of those with whom I began my journey here, only a few remain. Friends they were, brothers all to me. Some fell by the sword, others overcome by sadness and grief heard the call of the gulls and sailed home, to the white shores of Aman. Through war and strife, peace and prosperity, I stayed, here in this land that I love. Those who left these shores long ago, live here still in my heart. And there was room in my heart for other friends who took their places in my life as I passed from one age to the next.

"Gone are the days of the great Elven cities, a golden time when we peopled the earth in majority. How young we were then, idealistic. Lovers sat and courted underneath white fountains, danced at night in silk and velvet under the flags of royal houses. Our future lay bright before us in the voices of the children who played so gaily in the streets and meadows ... ah, the little ones, so few now." Glorfindel shook his head sadly.

"As that which I knew and loved crumbled and fell, turned to dust or washed beneath the waves of the sea, I could have followed but for the friends I could not leave behind. Those who stood by with comfort and care, how could I forsake them?"

"Yes, those days are gone and nonetheless, here I remain. For that which so enticed, I find still in the hearts and eyes of those less ancient than this old warrior, Glorfindel. But the children, ah, them I sorely miss.

"In the year 130 of this age, our lord and lady gave to us a truly precious gift, twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir; babes, so cherished by us elves, by this elf." Glorfindel gave a smile to the young ones who watched him in adulation.

"Blessed am I to be so involved with their upbringing. They are the closest I will have to sons of my own, and though I do not regret my loss, I treasure every moment I am able to spend with our young lords.

"It gives me great pleasure now to present my gift to Master Elrohir and I hope child, you will take good care of that which I give."

Elrohir was bouncing with eagerness, reaching for his present the minute Glorfindel said his name. But Glorfindel raised a finger for he had more left to say, seeing Elladan's crestfallen expression when he found that Glorfindel had drawn his brother's name, not his.

"Master Elladan, I love you no less than your brother but it was Elrohir's name that I drew and I am allowed only one gift this night. Your turn is yet to come, let your brother enjoy his moment."

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel." Elladan replied, his jealousy already forgotten. "Give 'Ro his present, I want to see what it is!"

Glorfindel smiled again and placed the gift in Elrohir's outstretched hands.

Master Elrohir with help from his brother made quick work of removing the wrapping from the present.

"It is a book!" Elrohir exclaimed opening the cover, "with pictures. See!" Elrohir held the book up for all to see.

"Aye, Master Elrohir," Glorfindel replied. "It is a very old tome, an illustrated book of the heroes of old. Be careful with the pages for they are fragile."

Elrohir did not reply for he and Elladan were already engrossed in the book, oh-ing and ah-ing over each page with obvious delight.

"Elrohir?" Lord Elrond addressed his youngest son with a nod in Glorfindel's direction.

"I thank you for my gift, Lord Glorfindel." Elrohir belatedly replied. "It is what I have always wanted!"

Whistles and cheers and smiles greeted Elrohir's words as the elves of Imladris applauded Glorfindel's choice and their young master's love of the gift. Lord Elrond stood as Glorfindel took his seat and waited for the noise to die down again.

Haldir meanwhile, was watching one of the parcels on the tray. Unless his eyes betrayed him, and he had not had that much to drink, the present in mention had moved a few spaces from where it lay only a few moments before. In fact, the object of his eye, a sack of loosely woven fabric gathered at the top and tied with a ribbon was now ... quivering.

Haldir was not the only one who had his eye on the sack, for Erestor was looking at it also in deep concentration, one eyebrow raised as if in doubt of what he was seeing. Lindir, too, was gazing suspiciously at the gift and once his father stood, so was young Elrohir. Although his expression, unlike the others, was filled with glee and he was giggling softly, hand to his mouth.

Lord Elrond's gaze soon followed the others. He shook his head and with a meaningful smile, told Elrohir it was his turn to offer his gift. When Elrond took his seat, Elrohir quickly stifled his mirth and with much aplomb, stood and addressed all in the room.

"My gift," he said as he reached for the very sack that had Haldir, Erestor and Lindir so entranced, is for my brother, Elladan. He is my stalwart companion and best friend. You must like my gift Elladan for I had a warg's all time catching it!"

"Elrohir!" Elrond chided, "such language!"

"It is true, Adar!" Elrohir replied, stamping his foot for emphasis and earning smiles from all present. "I had to ... "

Elrohir mumbled the rest of his sentence as Lord Elrond's visage grew sterner. But as is with elflings, his father's rebuke did not leave a lasting effect. So with a wide grin and a grand flourish, Elrohir placed the sack in front of his brother. It sat, quivering and shaking, leaving a spot of dampness on the crisp linen cloth that covered the table.

Elladan glanced quickly at Elrohir then eagerly untied the ribbon that held the mouth of the sack closed. No sooner had he opened the bag than his present hopped across the table with a loud r-ribbit and jumped into Lindir's lap. Startled, Lindir pushed back his chair while the bullfrog, as frogs will do, leapt to the floor and hip-hopped under the table, two elflings fast in pursuit.

"Got him!" one of them shouted, none was sure which, until Elladan emerged from under the table clutching the large spotted frog in his hands, its back legs dangling free, the pouch of its throat wildly pulsing.

"By the Valar, 'Ro, you crawled in the marsh to find him, all by yourself, for me?"

Elladan was impressed. Wading through mud and slime was nothing to Elladan but Elrohir had never shown interest in crawly creatures nor the cold-blooded animals that frequented the waters near the ponds and marsh. Elrohir was also more fastidious than his older brother although not so much to be called a dandy. That his brother would brave such environment for him was a surprise and Elladan was pleased.

Elladan stared at the frog which stared back with eyes like saucers, dark and luminous. "Ernil," (1) Elladan cried happily, "that is what I will call him, for he is the caun (2) of the pond, a big one!

A footman stepped forward with a small wooden crate lined with moss and Lord Elrond gestured for Elladan to place his prize inside. Elladan did so reluctantly closing the top so Ernil would not stray. (3)

"He is the grandest of presents, Elrohir." Elladan thumped his brother hard on the back and both elflings laughed as Ernil croaked loudly as if in agreement.

Applause and cheers followed and Lord Elrond waited patiently again for the room to quiet.

"Elladan, if Ernil will permit, you may present your gift." Elrond smiled and sat and Master Elladan rose from his chair and took a cloth bag from the tray. It, like Elrohir's offering was tied with a ribbon.

"Marchwarden Haldir," Elladan began, "I drew your name from the bowl."

Elladan was seated a few chairs down from Haldir so he walked over to stand by the Marchwarden. Bouncing up and down on his toes, barely able to contain his excitement, he rushed through his speech hardly taking the time to draw breath.

'Ro and I are always thrilled when you come for a visit, Marchwarden, for you tell the grandest of stories! Father says when I am older and can go to Lothlorien that you will teach me the use of the Longbow. Lord Glorfindel says you are a champion archer and I must learn from the best. I promise to visit soon for I am growing daily."

Elladan moved closer to Haldir and put his hand on Haldir's shoulder.

"Ro said he heard that you were lonely, Haldir. I get lonely too sometimes but I have my twin, Elrohir, to keep me company. You are older than Rumil and Orophin so they probably do not play with you much. So, I made you a wolf for a companion! His name is Carach(4)."

By the end of his speech, Elladan had wormed his way onto Haldir's lap. He gave the marchwarden his gift and had to restrain himself to keep from helping Haldir open it.

Haldir untied the string from the pouch and held up his wolf for all to see. It was brown and lumpy and made of clay and looked as if it had swallowed three sheep. Haldir did not tell Elladan he had other wolves on a special shelf in his room, compliments of his younger brothers, Rúmil and Orophin. Instead, he gave Elladan a warm hug and a huge smile.

"A fine companion Carach will be, Elladan. Lonely it is sometimes on the march and his company, I will enjoy, all the more, as you made him for me with your own hands."

"I made another wolf for you, Haldir, but I forgot to make him hollow inside. When he was placed in the kiln he exploded and it ruined all the journeymens' pots. Master Sandorin was angry and I did not think he would let me craft another. But, he did and Carach came out perfect!"

"That he did, Master Elladan. "I will be the envy of all the guardians with Carach at my side. I thank you from my heart for your gift."

Elladan smiled happily and leaned his head against Haldir's shoulder. The warrior's lap was very comfortable, he decided he would stay there awhile.

All in the dining hall clapped and cheered and Lord Elrond signaled for another round of wine to be served before standing once more to announce the next giver of gifts.

"Lord Erestor," Elrond said, "We are anxious to know whose name you selected."

Erestor nudged Lindir and pointed to a package on the tray. It was large and square and Lindir had to lift it with both hands to pass it to the advisor. Once the gift was positioned in front of Erestor, he stood and faced the head of the table.

"It was your name I drew, my lord Elrond," Erestor said, smiling. "No gift could ever show how much you mean to me and those of us here in Imladris. It has been a privilege and a great honour to serve at your side, to be a part of the family you shepherd in this valley. For you are our shepherd, milord, and we your faithful flock. Here we find what all seek: food, shelter, security, love. Basic needs, yes, but all are met.

"Ever we were searching, believeing we had found a lasting place to rest. But nay, those places now lie broken or buried, lost to us forever.

"Ironic, that the jewel hidden was revealed by an action of our greatest enemy. Did you know, Elrond? Was there some sixth sense that led you this way? When first we crossed the ford fleeing Sauron, was it then you knew what lay hidden deep in the cleft? Ah, Imladris, so aptly named, how she beckoned.

"Staunchly we defended our home then, fearing loss of what we had just found. He came, finally, Gil-galad, and once Sauron was routed he blessed our choice, made it official. I like to believe he thought he would spend his days here, once the war ended. Do you think already he knew his fate? Was that why he was so eager to see us settled?

"Those early days, just a camp of war tents. But you had vision, did you not, milord? We watched her grow, beautiful even then with her falls and rainbows. Our haven, our refuge, Imladris. Look at her now. Who would have believed?

"But never, could we call her home without you here to guide us. It was your arms and hers that kept us safe, keep us safe. I made the decision when first we met. Wherever you would go, I would follow. All that I am, I have learned from you, oh my warrior, healer, protector, liege, king, though you renounce the title, and father. For that is what you are to me and to our people here. I am but your humble servant, one lamb amongst the many. Last Homely House east of the Sea, your gift to us, our pasture. My shepherd, Elrond, in you we place our trust. Thank you for this, our home"

Erestor sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I mean those words, my Lord. Imladris is my final resting place ere you lead us all from these shores to Valinor."

Handing his package to Lindir to pass to Lord Elrond, Erestor spoke again. "It is not much, my gift, but one of your favourites. I have kept it for a special occasion. What better time than now, when we celebrate our affection for our family and friends."

Lindir passed Elrond's gift from Erestor to Glorfindel who gave it to their lord. Elrond rested his hands on the package. "You wax eloquent in your praise, Erestor, I am touched, deeply touched. It is my hope all feel as you about our home here. We all play our part in the welfare of Imladris. Perhaps, we are all shepherds and Imladris our flock."

So saying; Elrond un-wrapped his gift to disclose a wooden crate. Removing the pegs from the top, he lifted it off of the crate and pulled forth from the stuffings a bottle of wine. From the label, it was an early vintage, one made here in Imladris. "Ah, I remember the year of its making," Lord Elrond told Erestor, "this is a special vintage. I thought we had drunk the last of it long ago. This, we shall cherish every sip. We will open it tonight, after we have finished with our gifting. Cheers, Erestor, for such a tasteful present."

Cheers followed from all, the loudest yet, both in tribute to their Lord and to Erestor for his gift to Elrond. Two now were left still to present gifts, Elrond himself and young Lindir. Lord Elrond stood once more.

"I am sure you have guessed, Lindir, whose name I chose but I will wait until you present your gift to Lord Glorfindel before I give you yours. All those sleepless nights, Lindir, you have us intrigued. Your moment has arrived." Lord Elrond smiled at Lindir as he sat back in his chair.

All eyes were on Lindir now. His dilemma had long been revealed and all in the room could not wait to see what the minstrel had chosen for the elf he so loved.

Lindir took a small package from the tray, rose from his chair and asked Glorfindel to do the same. He took Glorfindel's hand in his and placed the gift in Glorfindel's palm. Then, looking into the eyes of his warrior, he spoke.

"I am not good with words, Glorfindel. Know only that I give this to you with my love." Lindir kissed Glorfindel's cheek. "From me to you, open it."

Once the wrapping was removed, Glorfindel held in his hand a small wooden box. He opened the lid and smiled. "It is beautiful, Lindir, perfect. Ah, love, all your worries were for naught for I dearly love your present.

"Do not keep us in suspense, Lord Glorfindel, show us your gift!" Someone in the room called out.

Glorfindel removed the brooch from the box and laid the golden harp in his palm. For that is what Lindir's gift to his love was. A golden harp entwined with enameled flowers, the flowers the same as the simple field flower of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, the Celandine. That representing all which was Glorfindel entwined with the instrument that was the love of his minstrel, the harp. Glorfindel would cherish it forever.

"Pin it over my heart, Lindir, for all to see." Glorfindel watched as Lindir did as he asked. Glorfindel pulled Lindir into his arms and placed a kiss on his forehead. And there they stood locked in each others embrace, as all in the dining hall clapped and whistled and cheered and wished them well. And they only parted when Lord Elrond cleared his throat signaling it was time they return to their seats.

Erestor, romantic that he was, cheered as loudly as the rest when Lindir's gift to Glorfindel was revealed. He had always hoped the two would find each other as evidenced when he had gifted Glorfindel with the moonstone long ago. And now, Erestor had been given a moonstone of his own, albeit it was only a small stone set in a bottle for ink. He wondered, did Haldir know the lore associated with the gem or was the warrior ignorant of such matters. Lost in such thoughts, Erestor was startled as a little hand clutched his robe. Elrohir climbed into Erestor's lap and settled himself comfortably, leaning his head against Erestor's shoulder as his brother had done with the Marchwarden.

It was time for the last of the elves at the table to present his gift. Lord Elrond rose once again and stood with his hands pressed lightly on the top of the table.

"Dearest Lindir, what joy you have brought to my home. I wish only that your arrival had not been due to such sad circumstance. As you know, it was your name I drew from the bowl. My gift to you, however, is not only from me but from all of Imladris and others that hold you in their heart. Lord Gildor and I correspond often for as he travels in his wanderlust, he gathers news and tells me what he believes is to my interest.

He left this for you, Lindir, and asked only that I waited until what I believed was the right time to gift it. Glorfindel measured your finger while you slept and I had it sized to fit. Elrond passed to Lindir a velvet purse embroidered with Lord Gildor's seal. Lindir opened it and drew forth a ring, a duplicate of the one belonging to his mother, engraved with the seal of Gildor Inglorion. His offer still stands, Lindir. You are of age and if you chose to accept your heritage, you do not have to leave Imladris. Whatever your decision, and take all the time you wish to make it, Gildor still wishes you to wear his ring.

Lindir nodded to Lord Elrond. "I thank you, my lord, for keeping the ring in trust. I am not the elf I was when first he came, yet, I need time before I can give an answer to my Uncle."

"He gives you all the time you wish, Lindir." Lord Elrond replied, "Follow your heart. This also is for you, from Master Findal and I. I hope you will choose to wear it, proudly. Elrond passed his second gift to Lindir, a velvet bag of a different colour, red with a brown tie. Lindir opened it and looked at Elrond in surprise. "A minstrel badge, my lord?"

Master Findal rose from his chair and walked over to stand by Lord Elrond. "Aye, Lindir. You are a master musician. Forgive this old master his trespass for I was angered you would not live in our house and was determined to deny you guild membership. You earned this long ago. We would be proud to have you wear the badge of an Imladris harpist."

"No, Master Findal, do not shoulder all the blame. It was I who acted the spoiled child. You were a strict master and I did not wish to stay with one I deemed so restrictive. Those days are long past and I now value your friendship and all you have taught me. I would not have the talent I do now without your instruction. Lindir proudly pinned the minstrel's badge of the Harper's guild to his robe, a golden harp set on a field of red circled by a band of brown, the colours of Imladris (5).

Through the entranceway of the dining hall, two elves of the Harper's guild carried in Lindir's harp and a cushioned bench.

"I took the liberty, Lindir," Master Findal said, it would be an honour if you would play for us I have my pipes if you wish accompaniment."

"Pass on an opportunity to play with the master piper of Imladris?" Lindir said with a laugh, "Never, Master Findal."

And play they did. The music was of joy and spring and waterfalls splashing over silver-grey rocks to fall in clear pools, of pine and beech and ash and oak and Elves and Dwarves, Half-lings and Men. And all in the dining hall clapped and hummed in joyous tribute to the beautiful sounds of pipe and string. All too soon it was over and there were cries for more, more.

The two master minstrels shook their heads and as one bowed low to the audience for the privilege of allowing them to play. As each returned to their seat, amidst cheers and applaud, two more elves entered the dining hall, each bearing trays containing small wrapped gifts. These they passed to occupants of each table, gifts from Lord Elrond. In fact, all residents of Imladris, whether or not they were present in the dining hall, received such a gift. For Lord Elrond was of generous nature and he loved the tradition Haldir had started with his story and was pleased to continue it at Imladris. As a last token of his appreciation, he opened the wine that Erestor had saved for him and shared it with all at his table.

As the celebration finally came to an end and the tables were cleared, most everyone moved to the Hall of Fire. Erestor and Haldir were some of the last to enter for they had put two sleepy elflings to bed. Lindir was there with his harp, Glorfindel sitting on the floor beside him, and it was there Lindir played his promised duet with the Marchwarden, for he had sent a servant to his room to fetch Haldir the lap harp. Laughter and song and merriment echoed throughout the halls of the Last Homely House long past the time when all should have been abed. Until finally, good nights were exchanged and each drifted off to their rooms to sleep.

Wrapped in the arms of Glorfindel, in the softness of Glorfindel's large bed, Lindir slept a dreamless sleep to a lullaby of the tinkling bells of Varda, Elbereth Gilthoniel, kindler of the stars, beloved of all the Elves.

-The Morning after - A Fond Farewell

The air was cool and fresh, the sky a painting of gilt and rose as the sun peeped over the cliffs of the hidden valley. Bells jingle-jangled on headstalls; hooves stamped in impatience, as Lords Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, Masters Elladan and Elrohir and Lindir, sat their mounts waiting to escort the Marchwarden of Lothlórien to the Gates of Imladris. Eight of Glorfindel's guardians would ride the rest of the way with Haldir to ensure of his safe journey home.

Haldir checked his grey's tack and the ties on his saddlebags then taking one last fond look at the Last Homely House, mounted and signaled to Lord Elrond he was ready. With Lord Glorfindel in the lead on Asfaloth, the rest of the escort followed two abreast down the path towards the bridge.

Mist from the falls that tumbled into the water of the river below settled as fine droplets into the hair of the riders, reflecting in the morning sun. The roar of the water drowned out conversation but all were too entranced with the beauty around them to care.

The narrow span of the bridge stretched high across the river, forcing the riders to cross single file. The river below churned and rumbled, its surface awash with foam as the water swirled in eddies over polished rock. Once across the river, the path widened and climbed higher entering a stand of tall pine. Squirrels chattered in greeting and birds sang sweetly as they went about the task of feeding their young.

Once past the music of the falls, conversation returned. The twins, riding on sure-footed ponies, were in high spirits and chatted almost non-stop. Haldir, who had moved next to Erestor, laughed at their enthusiasm.

"They are in fine feather this morning, are they not, Erestor? I have grown fond of Lord Elrond's sons."

"Aye, Haldir, they brighten all our hearts here in Imladris, although they can sometimes be a handful." Erestor smiled. "However did you manage on your own, Haldir, with your brothers?"

Haldir's father, a Lothlórien guardian, had been killed shortly after Haldir reached his majority. His mother, who was pregnant with their third child, had died in childbirth, leaving Haldir with two young ones to raise on his own.

"Rúmil and Orophin were all I had, Erestor. I would have gone to Mandos and back to keep my family together." Haldir answered perhaps more heatedly than he intended.

"My apologies, Haldir, I did not mean to pry." Erestor for once was suddenly at a loss for words.

Haldir cocked an eyebrow. One rarely saw Erestor flustered. "Your apology is accepted, my lord. It was wrong of me to answer as I did. Rúmil and Orophin are well-known for their mischief, I assume that is to which you referred."

"Yes, Haldir, forgive my blunder. I am not myself this morning." Erestor could not believe he had been so insensitive. What was it about Haldir all of a sudden that unnerved him so?"

"Oh, Haldir grinned, "You look as you did last night, Erestor, though perhaps a bit off colour. How much of that wine you gave to Elrond did you drink?"

Erestor's dark eyes flashed and he looked askance at Haldir, then seeing the Marchwarden was in jest, he laughed. The misunderstanding was forgiven and forgot.

"Erestor," Haldir's expression was now more serious. "Glorfindel told me about the moonstone. I just wanted you to be aware." And with that statement, Haldir whistled to his grey and rode on ahead to talk with Lord Elrond's seneschal, leaving an astonished Erestor behind.

The rose of the sky gave way to bright blue as the party at last reached their destination. Two sentries guarded the ornate stone gates that marked entry to Lord Elrond's realm. They saluted their Lord and their Captain and reported that all was well. Horses were tethered as all dismounted and gathered around the Marchwarden to wish him farewell.

Elladan and Elrohir wrapped their arms around Haldir's legs, their bright faces suddenly sad as they realized they would not see their story-teller for a long time. Little Elrohir blinked back tears and sniffed. Haldir knelt and wrapped an arm around each of the youngsters.

"Do not be sad, little ones. It is a while yet before the snow closes the pass. I will be back for another visit with many more stories to tell. Haldir kissed each on the forehead. "Be brave, little warriors, no tears." The twins kissed Haldir good-bye then ran to their father. Lord Elrond put his arms around his sons and gave them each a hug.

Lindir gave Haldir a hug also. "I shall miss you, Haldir. Words cannot express how much. I thank you for all you have done. Take care and safe journey home.

"Ah, Lindir, my little bird. You have found your wings and now fly free. Glorfindel is blessed. Haldir winked at Lindir. "At least, I have Carach to keep this poor, lonely guardian company. Lindir threw back his head and laughed. "Haldir, I am sure there are many pining for your return in Lórien, your reputation is well-known here in Imladris."

"Hmm," Haldir replied, smiling. "You listen too much to Master Elrohir and his friends in the laundry. Haldir gave Lindir a warrior's clasp. "Until next we meet, Lindir. I wish you and Glorfindel happiness."

"Until then, Haldir," Lindir replied, stepping back to give Erestor a chance to wish Haldir farewell.

Brown eyes met with hazel as Haldir took Erestor's hand. "Erestor, would you be open to my sending a letter now and then?"

"I must find some use for that ornate inkstand you gave me, Haldir." Erestor smirked. "If you write, I will answer."

"There is the Erestor I have always known," Haldir laughed. "Do you like poetry, Erestor?"

Erestor huffed. "I am a scribe, Haldir. Of course, I have a love for poems."

"Hmmm," Haldir tilted his head as if in thought then in an eloquent yet not so quiet voice, proclaimed:  
"What art thou, oh! thou new-found pain?  
From what infection dost thou spring?  
Tell me -- oh! tell me, thou enchanting thing,  
Thy nature, and thy name;  
Inform me by what subtle art,  
What powerful influence,  
You got such vast dominion in a part  
Of my unheeded, and unguarded, heart,  
That fame and honour cannot drive ye thence ... "(6)

Erestor's face turned slightly red in embarrassment and he sought to take his hand from Haldir's, but the Marchwarden's grip was strong.

"What?" said Haldir to Erestor, smiling in amusement, "Believe you words like these have no charm for a mere guardian?"

"N-No, Haldir, I ... "

Erestor did not have a chance to finish, for Haldir leaned forward and placed a kiss on the councilor's lips, much to Erestor's chagrin and further embarrassment. Yet, Erestor did not pull away as the kiss lengthened.

"E r e s t o r!" Elrohir could not keep quiet.

At Elrohir's outburst, Erestor did break the kiss but whether due to Elrohir's word or his need to draw breath none could say.

Glorfindel cleared his throat and Haldir whispered briefly into Erestor's ear. Erestor smiled and with a longing glance, turned away although he would have preferred to stay.

Much discussion followed then between Glorfindel and Haldir of routes and places to beware. Until at last, the two old friends embraced and exchanged the handclasp of warriors. "May the wind be always at your back." Glorfindel said in formal farewell. Haldir lay his hand on Glorfindel's shoulder and nodded.

"My Lord Elrond," Haldir bowed low before the lord of Imladris. "As always, I am sad to leave for you are a most gracious host and my time here has been memorable."

"You are always welcome to my home, Haldir" Elrond replied. "Nan lû govaded vîn." (7)

"Ir i lû telitha"(8), Haldir replied, hand raised in farewell.

Haldir un-tethered his grey and mounted then joined the escort of guardians who had waited patiently for all the good-byes to be said. With a spoken word, they moved out, and his eyes turned towards home.

Erestor and those left behind watched until there was no more left to see then they too mounted and rode back down the path to the Last Homely House.

The rest of the day passed swiftly. Lindir, whose holiday was over, rode to meet his patrol. Two weeks would pass before he would see his lover, other than when Glorfindel made his rounds. Lord Glorfindel, after rounds, worked on duty rosters and reports for Lord Elrond. Erestor read the reports and others, met with his lord and saw to the running of the household. Lord Elrond spoke with his advisors, seneschal; heads of household, healing house and crafting guilds, and performed the myriad other duties that arose in the daily governing of his realm. The twins were allowed to play until their lessons in the afternoon.

So, the days of the seasons went, the valley quiet and peaceful after the tumultuous events of the week of Haldir's visit. Until, one day a messenger arrived from the Golden Woods and the household was again in uproar.

Almost running down the hall, Lord Erestor clutched the message in hand, heading for Lord Elrond's office. Arriving breathlessly at Elrond's door, he knocked, and was bade entry.

"My lord," Erestor said, "You should read this."

He handed the message to Elrond and stood, tapping his foot waiting for his lord to finish reading.

"She is returning, Erestor." Elrond's voice was jubilant. Celebrían is coming home. We must be ready for her arrival!"

Such flurry of activity had not been seen for some time in Imladris. The household staff cleaned, scrubbed and polished. The gardeners weeded, pruned and planted. Menus were written, produce ordered and hunts organized. Silver was polished to a lustrous sheen. Seamstresses were kept busy sewing and jewelers smelting. The demands on all crafting houses were high. Banners, bunting and garlands were hung and arrangements of cut flowers were placed in each room. Everyone was rushed and harried but full of joy, for all in the realm wished themselves and Imladris preened and ready for their beloved lady's return.

The day arrived with much fanfare. The sky was a glorious field of blue upon which fluffy, white clouds drifted languidly. The peoples of Imladris gathered dressed in their finest with baskets of flower petals over their arms. Lords Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel with Masters Elladan and Elrohir waited on the steps of the Last Homely House, dressed in robes of state. Other lords and ladies and persons of importance stood to the right of the steps, not part of the receiving line but separated from those of more common birth. Lindir was with the small band of minstrels on a flower strewn dais waiting to play upon the lady's arrival.

The signal was given and not long after, the lady herself and her escort appeared. As they rode down the path to the courtyard in front of the Last Homely House, they were showered with flower petals from the crowd that had gathered. Masters Findal and Lindir and three other musicians played a fine tribute on harp and pipe, flute and drum.

Celebrían, even after such a long journey, was fresh as a rose and shone with the inner light that all Elves of the Golden Wood possess. Her golden hair flowed unbound from under a silver circlet. Her dress was of blue and silver, the colours of Lothlórien. A heavy cloak of pale almost silver grey, draped from her shoulders across the back of her mount, its borders embroidered with a band of stylized Mellryn leaves and flowers. She turned to the leader of her escort, Marchwarden Haldir, who gave her his hand and helped her to dismount. She took his arm and he led her to the steps of the Last Homely House where both she and he bowed in greeting to Lord Elrond.

"My Lady, dearest Celebrían, welcome home." Elrond said as he took her hand.

"It was time to come home, my husband, for I missed both you and my sons." Celebrían replied.

She pressed a kiss to Lord Elrond's cheek, hugged Elladan and Elrohir and gave them kisses then exchanged greetings with Lords Glorfindel and Erestor. Both the lord and his lady spoke briefly to the crowd then Lord Elrond, Masters Elladan and Elrohir escorted Lady Celebrían inside so she could bathe and rest.

The horses of the escort were led to the stable and each guardian shown to a room either in the soldier's barracks or the Last Homely House, depending on their rank. Haldir lingered to speak with Glorfindel and Erestor and Lindir, who had come to join him."

"I have returned," Haldir said with a smile, "much later than I expected." Two other guardians joined the group, both lithe and slender with flaxen hair. Each bore a slight resemblance to the Marchwarden. Haldir introduced Rúmil and Orophin to Lindir, who alone of the group, had not before made the acquaintance of Haldir's brothers. Rare it was they left Lothlórien, for they did not have the inquisitiveness of Haldir for that which existed outside their woods. This was their first visit to Imladris and the wonder of the valley still lingered on their faces. They bowed low in greeting to the three Imladris hosts.

"Do you wish escort to your rooms?" Glorfindel asked, "Or would you care to share a bottle of wine to wash the dust from your journey before you take your rest?"

All three brothers grinned and expressed their desire to taste a bottle of Imladris vintage. Glorfindel walked with Haldir, Erestor with Rúmil, and Lindir and Orophin followed as Glorfindel led them into a small parlor and bade them to sit.

The room was furnished with potted plants and wide, comfortable chairs with cushioned backs and seats. Heavy curtains draped the windows which provided a beautiful view of the gardens. Tapestries hung on the walls from twisted ropes of silken cord. A cabinet stood in a corner of the room from which Glorfindel produced a bottle of wine and wine glasses. He placed these all on a tray and carried it to a small table near where his guests sat. He poured wine into each glass and when all were served, took the last glass and sat in a chair next to Lindir.

"Your journey was without mishap?" Glorfindel asked, after taking a sip of wine.

"The way was clear and the weather mild, we could not have asked for better." Haldir replied.

"Celebrían seems in fine spirit. Lord Elrond and the twins are happy she has returned. For their sake, I hope she stays long." Glorfindel raised his glass. "Cheers to your safe arrival and fond welcome to Orophin and Rúmil and of course, yourself, Haldir."

All raised their glass to complete the toast.

"We were honoured for the opportunity to visit fair Imladris," Rúmil replied, "Haldir's description did not prepare us for the beauty of the valley."

"Nor that of Lord Elrond's councilor," Orophin said with a wink. "Haldir spoke of nothing else on his return from his last visit. "My pardon, Lord Erestor, but it is naught but the truth. Rúmil and I have seen you, of course, on your visits to my lord and lady but we wished to greet personally, he who has my elder brother so entranced. So, my lord, do you feel the same for our brother?"

Erestor's brows rose. "Do you harry the laundresses in Lothlórien, Orophin?"

At the quizzical look on Orophin's face, Haldir laughed. "They have no shame, Erestor. See all, know all. Beware, my brothers!"

The Imladris elves laughed as both Orophin and Rúmil grinned wickedly at Haldir. Conversation continued as Glorfindel refilled glasses until finally, Rúmil begged leave for he was tired.

"I need rest also," Haldir said, yawning. Orophin nodded in agreement. Lord Erestor led the three to their chambers for all had rooms in the Last Homely House. Erestor lingered at the last door, the room of the Marchwarden, long enough for a kiss then made his way down the hall with a smile. His work day was not finished and he had much to do for the celebrations of the lady's return had not ended.

That evening, all rooms in the Dining Hall were opened as the kitchen laid a great feast for the first night of Celebrían's return. The light of hundreds of candles glowed from fixtures bright and polished onto tables set with the finest porcelain, silver and crystal. Seven courses of exquisite dishes and entrees were waiting to be served from roast goose and venison to the most delicate of sugary confections.

As Lord Elrond led his lady into the hall, a herald announced in bold voice the title of the lady and lord and of each guest who arrived thereafter. When all had been seated and the doors closed, the feasting began.

Long it lasted, as footmen back and forth from the tables went with trays of the most of delicious foods. For Eowidith had worked her magic and earned her position three-fold over. The guests were splendid in their finery and the room was bright and beautiful. Celebrían's smiles warmed hearts for all loved the lady that Elrond had chosen for his wife.

All things must come to an end and so full and filled and satisfied, the diners left, some to the Hall of Fire to continue the celebration, others to their homes or rooms to sleep.

Lord Erestor, to no one's surprise did not stay in his room that night. And, in the stateliest set of suites, Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían prepared for rest. But to Elrond's surprise and great joy, his lady did not wish for her separate bed. Gentle kisses led to more and Elrond's lonely heart was lonely no more.

Lord Glorfindel and Lindir retired to Glorfindel's chamber for Lindir had long since moved in with his lover. Wrapped in each other's arms in the softness of Glorfindel's bed, they lay, content.

"Glorfindel," Lindir whispered, "I am happy for Erestor and Haldir. Never will I forget the night Haldir told his story and we chose names to gift to each other."

"And you tossed and turned each night worrying what would please me. Aye, I remember that night well, Lindir." Glorfindel replied. "But I remember most our night under the stars, for that is when you gave me the most cherished gift of all, Lindir, your love." Glorfindel kissed Lindir tenderly and his minstrel returned the kiss in full.

"And you gave me yours," Lindir replied smiling, touching his hand to Glorfindel's cheek.

Glorfindel took Lindir's hand and pressed the palm to his lips then held Lindir's hand in his own and laid two rings upon it. They were tied together with a silk ribbon.

"Love me, Lindir ... forever." Glorfindel whispered.

"Always," Lindir replied.

The rings fell to the mattress as Lindir and Glorfindel celebrated their betrothal in the age old way of lovers. Lindir's heart sang to Glorfindel's and Glorfindel's sang in return. Two rhaw(9) merged as they reached the climax of their bliss and each, for that moment, knew the other's thoughts. "Glorfindel! Cried Lindir. "Lindir!" Cried Glorfindel. Stars danced over their heads and bells rang softly as Varda placed a kiss on the forehead of each. But neither noticed the Vala nor her gift. Varda smiled and blessed the couple then faded from view as clarity returned to the two on the bed.

Words were exchanged and love forever pledged, promises sealed with kisses. Tomorrow the news would be told but this night, Lindir and Glorfindel found many ways to express their devotion until at last, sated and happy, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The rays of the sun shone bright through the windows of Glorfindel's room to rest upon a harp of gold, entwined with enameled flowers.

~Fin~

1\. Ernil - prince  
2\. caun - prince, ruler  
3\. My thanks to Jessie for the idea of the frog.  
4\. Carach - jaw  
5\. I am not sure if Tolkien mentioned a Heraldic device for Elrond of Imladris. So the colours I chose in representation of Elrond's house come straight from my imagination. Perhaps, more fitting would have been blue and black or blue and silver, based on the devices for Eärendil or Gil-galad, but I somehow pictured Imladris in the colours of autumn. If anyone can say different, please send me a note.  
6\. Excerpt from On Desire by Aphra Behn.  
7\. Nan lû govaded vîn. - Until next we meet.  
8\. Ir i lû telitha. - Until then.  
9\. rhaw - Fëa, plural fëar), and hröa, plural hröar , are Quenya terms for "soul" (or "spirit") and "body". The Sindarin equivalents are fae and rhaw, respectively. Definition from Thetolkiengateway.net website.


End file.
